Psychosis
by Mej Cat
Summary: AU: In the city Shinobi, deep in the slums of Sunagakure, lived a family of three. Lovely Temari, Loyal Kankuro and poor, dysfunctional, psychotic Gaara... Gaara/OC Story is complete, if you enjoyed the characters and universe read Psychosis By Proxy, the side fiction.
1. Prologue: Define Me

I own several oc's. They're not here yet, so Masashi Kishimoto has dibs. For now.

Psychosis

Prologue: Define Me

_Definition: A severe cognitive disorder in which a person's personality is scrambled, causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to be strained and impaired._

Yes. That was the gist of Gaara's disorder. His personality was timid, meek, frightened... until you pushed him, taunted him, tormented him, that is. Oh, yes, once he was pushed, the voices came, changing him into a desperate fugitive, (prisoner) of his own mind. Oh, and how they came. First one, just one _nasty_ voice, _whispering, **whispering,** **whispering...**_

Then another one, harsher than the first, abrasive to his tormentors. Two voices, one nasty voice, whispering, whispering, whispering, and one second hard voice, _**cursing**_,_** cursing **cursing..._

And yet another voice would come, abusive and cruel to everyone, even Gaara. Ah, yes, this was the voice that he hated. That voice came, blurring and slurring the other two together, **screaming**, **screaming**, _**screaming**_. And it was never alone. It always brought with it a multitude of _**upheaval.**_

For after the third, another voice would come, then another, another, another until Gaara's head was so full of noise... so assaulted and violated with shrieks and howls that his hands would climb his face, the sharp tips digging into his scarred ears.

He would plead, his fingers trembling against his ears, begging for release, for sanctuary from the _**SOUND**_. When, and I do mean when, this failed, for the voices never seemed to hear Gaara's pleas above their own savage dialogue, he would tear into his ears. Clawing, scratching, shrieking, sobbing, to tear his ears from the nerves that bound the sounds to his brain. For if he could destroy the device that channeled sounds, the voices would stop. Yes.

But it never worked, someone always found him. Someone always helped him, someone always saved him. They did not know though, they did not understand that they were just as much his tormentors as anyone else. His own mind was a prison, one from which he needed escape. His siblings, loyal Kankuro, Loving Temari, would sit with him, hold him, soothe him... and try to cure him.

In desperation to save him from himself, they would give him pill, after pill, after pill. So many a capsule had passed his lips that he had lost count. A rainbow of medicine, rotting in his innards, _doing no good_.

And when that failed, it often did, the voices would start again, bringing with them, his savior. The entity, the personality that he had confided in since childhood, Shukaku. And he would be okay. He would be able to face the next day. And the next, the next, the next...

But not humanity.

He was truly misanthropic. How could you not be after what he had witnessed? The brutal murder of his mother at the hands of his father, and the ceaseless attacks from the same man, more insane than Gaara had ever been, bruising lovely Temari's face, breaking loyal Kankuro's spirits, scarring impressionable, dysfuntional, defective _**Gaara.**_

He held a certain amount of loathing for himself, being the bane of his classroom, while living in the slums of Shinobi didn't help either. Sunagakure was known as the poorest, dirtiest, slimiest, most defective part of the city. And he knew it. Yes, Gaara knew that he was the _poor_, **_insane_**, _**freak **_who dared to befoul the Earth by breathing its air, touching the ground, and overall existing.

But he was okay, as long as **Loyal **Kankuro and _Lovely_ Temari would accept him, he would go on living. Living for them. Living to suit the definition he had carved into his wall, the hand that cold, cynical fate had dealt him:

_Pyschosis_

_ A severe cognitive disorder in which a person's personality is scrambled, causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to be strained and impaired._

That's all for now. Please _R&R._


	2. Chapter 1: A Clean White Room

**Still... not... here. Curse you Kishimoto sensei... This chapter was rewritten today, March 20, 2013.**

**Chapter 1: A Clean White Room**

* * *

Of all the humans in the city, Gaara hated Sasuke the most. He was the reason that Gaara was home schooled, and the reason that the horrible scar over his left eye refused to heal.

So of course, it seems fitting that on his way back from the store, buying some eggs for Lovely Temari, that Sasuke and one of his many, many sheep would find him. They always found him. Always...

But never in the well-to-do Konoha District. Always in the slums where not another soul cared to save Gaara from Sasuke. Always amongst the dirty gray sidewalks and crumbling, filthy buildings did he find the red head, most often alone, and torment him, with only his minion and the uncaring, cold urchins of the street.

He had first tried looking down and hurrying past, but he felt the hard jerk on his hood, sending him tumbling back onto the pavement.

"What's your hurry, psycho?" that had been Sasuke's pet name for Gaara since before he was taken from high school. Every day without fail, "Psycho, pyscho, psycho!" It was the reason that Gaara's definition had been carved into his wall... and his memory.

"Psychosis..." he recited, automatically, checking the carton of eggs in his trembling fingers. Two were broken. "A severe cognitive disorder in whi-"

"Nobody cares!" Gaara's eyes snapped up, his mouth continuing of its own accord. "-which leaves a person's personality scrambled," Sasuke feigned a lunge at the miserable form. "C-causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to become strained and impaired." The pink haired girl (ShEeP) latched onto Sasuke's arm wrinkling her pretty little face in disgust.

"He's soooo weird, Sasuke-kun." She wheedled, her voice whining and needy, holding his arm tighter as if the emaciated, exhausted boy in the baggy jacket actually frightened her. Gaara felt nauseous from the display. Shukaku did, too.

She gave an exaggerated squeal as the boy made a move to get up, gingerly clinging to the dripping carton of eggs. His sad green eyes lifted from his feet, his lower lip crunched tightly underneath his teeth. "Y-you broke two of my sister's eggs." he accused, softly. His tormentors, much to Gaara's misanthropic horror, began to laugh.

"Oh, I'm sorry." said Sasuke, that cruel smile still stapled to his Oh-so-perfect face. "I meant to break all of them." His hand shot out in a perfect ark and propelled the eggs from Gaara's trembling hand.

As the box exploded on the concrete, the voices started. "No!" he whispered, his eyes wide and searching for people who weren't there. "Noo! No! They're coming!" he shivered violently, holding his hands in front of his face, no longer paying attention to the laughing forms before him. The world began to swim, his breathing came in short, ragged gasps.

"Make them stop! Please, I'm begging! Make them stop. Shukaku, help!" his hands parallel to his ears, he began to pound his nails against them. "No! Be quiet! Shut up!" the girl had stopped laughing. "No! Stop, Stop, Stop, Stop!" his hands beat a rhythm to his cries, a thin trickle of sanguine fluid seeping over his hands.

"Sasuke," she whimpered, looking worried. "We should go, he's, like, freaking out." she tugged on his arm. "We could get in trouble." He shook her off, still laughing.

"I'm not so sure, Sakura? How much credibility could the little creep have?" Sasuke turned and gave the girl a condescending, reassuring smile. "No, they'll think that he dropped his eggs, heard voices, and had a panic attack. They have no proof. Right, Gaara?" he turned and thrust his open palm into Gaara's heaving chest.

An animamlistic howl of terror tore his throat. But his anger brought a certain amount of clarity to the voices. He'd never listened to them before, not fully. In this moment of excruciating humiliation and stress, he found that he could pick out phrases from the torrent. His hands dropped to his sides, turning his head blankly to the side to listen.

**_"Wastes of Space, The world would be better off without them You deserve vengeance destroy them, avenge yourself, Kill Them"_**

The last words resonated throughout his head.

**_Kill Him_**. Shukaku's presence was calm, rational, and commanding.

Gaara's lower lip shook. "I... "he whimpered, his hands still trembling. Shukaku's voice began to whisper. Its words were soothing.

**_"You don't have to kill him, then. Make him pay."_**

Eyes wide, a slow smile spread across his face. "Ye-yes." he looked up, still smiling that disturbing, grim, insane smile. His eyes held such malice, such hatred, such... psychosis, both of the teenagers took a step back. Gaara stood up, laughing. Laughing in short streams, quickly, unnaturally, hatefully. Laughing, Laughing, Laughing...

He took a step forward.

"You broke my sister's eggs." he giggled. "So... now I get to break your head? Is that fair? Shukaku says it is..." Sasuke's eyes narrowed haughtily.

"You think you can take me?" He made a move to shove Gaara back but Gaara stepped aside.

"No... But I can make you pay... right? Yeah, we think so." His illogical statement caused the girl to shriek, pulling out her cell phone.

"Hello, police?"

Gaara ignored her, running at Sasuke and slamming into him full force. His lanky frame hurt. His bony knees dug into Sasuke's thighs, his elbows cracking against his collarbone. "I hate you." whispered Gaara, slamming his fist into Sasuke's stupid, wretched, normal face. "I. Hate. You." he dug his sharp bloody fingernails into the thin tender skin underneath his eyes. "I. Hate. You!" Sasuke writhed underneath him, but Gaara was not done. He clambered onto Sasuke's stocky athletic body and punched him again, kneed his stomach, ripped at his hair.

The voices in Gaara's head had ceased their accusations, for now they laughed. An eerie chorus of voices rang out amongst the synapses of his mind, encouraging him to continue his assault. Shukaku did not contribute to the swirl of echoes, but Gaara could hear the silent smirk playing at his lips.

Sasuke gave a growl and kicked up, hitting Gaara in the stomach and sending him crashing into the pavement. There were little flecks of blood on the cement beside him, Gaara noted. More was coming out, connecting the dots. The voices took up the humming of some strange melody. Something calm and ambivalent… about nurses who loved their patients. Apples falling from your eyes while you slept….

He smiled, lightly: He liked the song. The other boy grabbed Gaara by the front of his hoodie and slammed him into the brick wall. Blood was trickling out of Gaara's head, matting his hair in the back. "You freak! Fuckin' psycho!" he snarled, slapping Gaara's face to the side. Gaara chuckled weakly: The voices were still singing. Sasuke grimaced and kneed Gaara between the legs, grinning with satisfaction at the low, pained cry. "Do I need to teach you another lesson?"

Gaara's eyes widened as he remembered...

_Remembered Sasuke's pocket knife carving into his forehead, reopening the scar he had tried so hard to conceal. Remembered his father's gruff command and the feel of the bookcase under his slender back._

_"Sure, I love you." he had sneered, steering the butcher knife along soft, pale flesh and crafting the kanji. "There. All the love you need." And the little boy had screamed, and the voices had…_

Gone silent. "Love," Gaara coughed, feeling his stomach twist sickly. His words came slurred and distant. "Definition: A deep feeling of-"

"Oh, shut up!" Sasuke pounded Gaara's head into the wall behind him. Gaara's mouth fell open slightly, his eyes unfocused. There was a thin trickle of discharge oozing from his ears. The thin boy's insomnia rimmed eyes, an ostentatious manifestation of his hypnophobia , slid shut and his head tipped forward. The raven dropped him, stepping back to see Sakura shut her phone. "The police are coming..." she stated, stupidly.

Sasuke shrugged and wrapped his scraped arm around Sakura's waist, using his other hand to wipe the blood from his busted lip. "We don't know anything." She sighed, nuzzling her head into his shoulder. "You're so _smaart_. You think of everything..." she swooned, the two leaving the bloody mess behind.

The silence, like all good things in his young life, was short lived as the wail of ambulances replaced the gargle of voices.

* * *

Several hours later, Kankuro and Temari sat together outside the hospital room, waiting for the doctors to examine Gaara. Temari buried her face in her hands. "I shouldn't have sent him out alone!" she sobbed, her shoulders heaving.

Kankuro lovingly wrapped an arm around her shoulder, consoling, "No, you didn't know this would happen. Come on, don't blame yourself." She shivered slightly, and he rubbed his hand against her bare arm. Neither of them could escape the icy clutch of apprehension that had settled in their chests.

* * *

The doctor was silent for a moment, snapping his fingers in front of Gaara's eyes. His stared lethargically up at him, unblinking, silent, and unmoving. The boy licked his lips. "Are... Are Kankuro and Temari okay?" he croaked, pain choking his throat and burning his head. The doctor looked outside and nodded. "Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief, settling back into the white pillow. He examined the clean white room listlessly, taking in the pale curtains and the deep brown desk. A small black television was up on the wall, tiled floors reached from corner to corner, and he himself was surrounded by silver medicinal instruments, blue clad nurses, and the sea of rough, ivory sheets pooling around his scrawny frame.

The doctor gave Gaara a hard look examining the scars on his body. "Where did you get these?" the deep voice rumbled. The boy's eyes gazed off and he took some time to answer.

"The one on my head... from my father." he murmured, staring at the IV as it dripped, dripped, dripped, dripped... "The ones on my back from Sasuke and... them… the others." The IV's translucent fluid plipped, plipped, plipped... The doctor clucked his tongue.

"And the ones on my ears were from me." he smiled lightly, looking at the doctors face: Thick eyebrows over dark eyes, a square jaw with a prominent nose. His nametag said Baki. "I'm not a masochist though." he said, his face growing grave and sincere. "I did it because I wanted," he paused again. "I wanted peace and quiet."

"From?" The doctor maintained his casual demeanor, checking off a box behind the clipboard.

"Them…" Gaara was staring at something very intently, his eyes crinkled slightly as though it irritated him that they couldn't see… them.

An uneasy silence, as white as the room, settled over the crowd, like a fine mist. "Them?" the doctor asked, softly.

"The voices...They scream so loud, I just want it to stop..." He looked at the doctor pleadingly, then back to the wall. "They told me... if I slept... Temari and Kankuro would..." he bit his abused lower lip, stilling the violent shivering. The doctor shushed him soothingly.

"I'll send them in. I want to borrow them for a minute though, okay?" Gaara nodded, clutching the blankets nervously and watching the doctor go. He listened to a series of sounds from the bed beside him, watching with slight disinterest as the patient beside him vomited into a bucket. Drip, drip, drip...

* * *

"Sabaku-san?" he asked, addressing the worried blond.

"Yes?" she sprang up. "How is he? Is he okay?" Kankuro controlled himself, his face passive, but he held the same nervous energy in his own eyes.

"He's fine..." said the doctor, slowly. "You can take him home tomorrow, but you should know, he has a concussion and several deep gashes." The two sighed, clasping each other in a relieved embrace. "But..." the two stopped staring at him wide-eyed. The doctor faltered... what a sad little family.

"What? What is it?" Kankuro's voice wavered.

"He's... I think he should be committed."

* * *

Gaara watched the doorway anxiously. "He lied to me... he lied to me..." he whimpered, rocking back and forth. Tears began to leak down his face. "Kankuro, Temari I'm sorry! I couldn't get the eggs and then I went to sleep. You died! It's all my fault!" he began to breathe quickly, his chest heaving as it had before. The world began to swim... until the door opened and his siblings began to enter. His vision shifted, righted itself. Kankuro pulled a chair over to Gaara's bedside and Temari rushed over and enveloped him in an embrace. She smelled of incense, and shampoo, and soap... of home. He inhaled deeply, leaning his head against his sister's shoulder. "Oh, oh, it's okay!" she sighed. "You're okay." Gaara's eyes filled with guilty tears.

"Onii-chan," he moaned, sorrow coloring his voice. "I'm sorry. I bought the eggs, and then, then S-sasuke! He broke them all. Every one of them!" he shivered. Temari chuckled and pulled back a bit.

"No... no it's okay. I don't care about the eggs. I'm just glad you're okay." he smiled uncertainly. Kankuro leaned over and ruffled his hair, carefully avoiding the white bandages holding his throbbing head together.

"How'd it happen?" he asked, softly. Gaara looked down.

"I got in a fight." he whispered. He peeked up through his crimson bangs, noting that Kankuro and Temari's faces had tightened.

"With who?" whispered Temari, her eyes filling with tears.

"Sasuke! But. But! He broke your eggs! And... and then... Shukaku said I should get even..."

"Who's... who's that Gaara?" asked Kankuro, his voice catching slightly.

"One of... of the voices...I told you about him!" Kankuro nodded, eyes distant. The two were still, their faces blank, their mouths tight. Then, Kankuro smiled and reached below, drawing out a bag. Gaara's eyes widened with a childish confusion. "You... you brought your tools?"

Kankuro smiled and shook his head, preferring to reach into the bag rather than to explain. His rough calloused hands, the hands of a carpenter, a toy maker, came back out with a small brown haired figure. "Since you mention Shukaku, I thought I'd show you my latest project." the doll was a miniature replica of Beloved Shukaku.

"How did you-?" Kankuro smiled, handing the figure to Gaara who eagerly snatched it from his fingers. "It looks just like him..." he hugged it to his chest, reaching out to his brother.

"It's not quite finished." Said Kankuro, smiling lightly. "I still need to even out the colors and the texture. It's still pretty rough." He scratched the back of his head modestly. "Maybe, when you get home, we can work on it together."

Gaara had never once accepted a hug from Kankuro. Kankuro reminded him too much of his father and his father never hugged him. So instead, Gaara would reach out and brush his fingers against Kankuro's, and maybe clasp his hand. Today was special: He clasped Kankuro's strong hand underneath his thin brittle fingers. He felt every callous on Kankuro's palm, traced every vein that stood out against the healthy skin, squeezing very, very lightly.

There was a very gentle moment of peace between the small family, until Gaara noticed the tension hiding in the silence.

The two siblings sighed, both seeming very, very anxious. A low whispering started up in the back of Gaara's mind sending a chill down his spine. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice terribly quiet. The two looked at each other.

"Well, um..." She gave a shuddery sigh. "Gaara. We need to talk about, ah..." Temari wrung her hands as she spoke the words, her spunky smile gone, replaced by a look twenty years too old for her. "Well..." she looked at Kankuro desperately.

"We want to talk to you about Shu-" he stopped. He wouldn't give it a name, that gave it a form and form gave it reality. "Y'know, them." Gaara's mouth twitched, his eyes narrowing.

"You... you think I'm crazy too?" he demanded, his hands shaking from the force being exerted on the doll.

"No! No!" Temari cried, gently pressing her fingers into the air before her, as if there were some transparent wall between them. "Not at all, we're just concerned about the voices and... What they're saying." Kankuro nodded in agreement, seeming totally unfazed by Gaara's accusation.

"Then, why, why do we need to talk?" his voice was quavering, blood pumping quickly through his veins.

"Well, we think you should go to a... um..."

"A treatment center." said Kankuro, softly, picking up where Temari cut off.

The voices grew louder. "You... expect me to believe that?" His eyes narrowed to slits, his fingers skittering nervously against his lap. "Bullshit. You think I'm psycho!" his voice rose considerably, causing the people next door to fall silent.

"No!" the two siblings spoke together, sensing the deterioration of the situation.

"You're Lying! I know you are!" he flung the doll at Kankuro's head, ripping the IV needle from his hand. Blood gushed everywhere. The voices grew to a deafening pitch, and he realized with horror, that he could make out what they were saying again. Just like before. They were saying such cruel things about his siblings, his siblings... he loved them, loved them, loved them...

_**The "noble" traitor and the pretty little liar, the worms want to send you away. They hate you and they always have…**_

Gaara let out a strangled sob, bringing both hands to his ears. "Stop! Don't say that! Leave them alone!" Kankuro had gone out to hail a nurse, Temari raced to Gaara's side, desperately trying to soothe him.

"Gaara, please! It's okay. We love you!" Gaara clawed at his ears, ignoring her entirely. "Get these wretched things out of my head!" his ears burned with pain as he raked the abused flesh with his sharp nails.

"Please! Temari! Kankuro! Help me please!" he sobbed his eyes wild and frantic. "I don't want to do this anymore!"

The doctors came rushing in, Baki holding a syringe filled with an acidic green fluid. Gaara gave an unearthly shriek upon seeing the needle, hearing a particularly frightening suggestion from the flurry of screams. Baki stepped forward calmly, easily and grabbed Gaara's flailing arm in a vice like grip. "Let go of me! You're trying to kill me!" his voice cracked from the strain. "Shukaku says so! I, I can't... I can't I..." the needle broke the skin, releasing the sedative into Gaara's bloodstream. He whimpered in fear, the voices still there, but growing dimmer as though someone were slowly shoving cotton through his ears, the soft fabric perforating his ear drums and soaking up the bloody sound. His last thoughts before the blackness settled over him struggled to adhere.

"I'm sorry…"

The last thing he saw was Temari sobbing into her hands, and Kankuro brushing the doll off as he placed it back into the bag. To take it home. To finish it, with his unstable little brother.

* * *

The next day, Gaara left the hospital, clinging tightly to his sister's hand. They chose not to speak about the events of yesterday, in spite of the knowledge that all of them shared.

Gaara was leaving one white room, this clean silver and white room, to enter another. Very Soon.

That's that. Please read and review! Hopefully it's better this time around. If you can guess the song I referenced you get a cookie.


	3. Chapter 2: The Defects

**Okay... YOU FOUR GET YOUR BUTTS OVER HERE! Now I own something! These are my childrenz! GaaraxOc approaches so if you gon' be hatin' on the oc's then... Begone!**

**Edited March 20 of 2013. On a roll, #Thuglife. *is shot**

**Chapter 2: The Defects**

* * *

_Plip, plip, plip_, the rain fell against the glass of the car window like tears from a lone deity above, filling the atmosphere with gloom. The radio at the front was spewing some acidic rock song that Temari was humming, with Gaara apathetically tapping his fingers in time to the beat. The silence was thick and heavy, settling uneasily over the occupants of the car like a choking smog. Her pigtails bobbing, Temari glanced in the mirror, checking Gaara's expression carefully.

"Gaara, you know we're going to visit every chance, right?" he nodded, his gaze folowed after the cold rain in its chaotic descent. _Plip, plip, plip_. The boy's pale hand lifted to his face where tears were dropping like rain falling from a cold green sky.

"How long do I have to stay?" his voice came out steady, and calm, despite the shuddering of his insides. Temari glanced back again, her eyes brimming with apology.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully, not too long." she chimed, smiling as reassuringly as she could. Gaara didn't believe her.

"Hm," Gaara leaned his head against the back of Temari's seat. The monstrous, miserable, unhappy building loomed oppressively overhead. "I don't want to go..." he mouthed, despair filling his stomach with a silvery cold. "I don't want to go..." Temari saw him hunched over in the back, shivering slightly with anxiety.

"I'm sorry, Gaara. We love you."

Gaara flinched at that word, for Kankuro hadn't come, preferring to "Stay home and get some cleaning done", he had said, ruffling Gaara's hair as gingerly as before. Of course, Gaara had not believed him.

The rain came a little harder. _Plip, plip, plip..._

* * *

The receptionist, Gaara noted, was unpleasant and very much like that pink haired slattern who'd been draping herself across Sasuke's arm. Upon their entrance, she glared up at them, as if they were intruding on her personal time, causing Gaara to scowl. She very rudely snatched the paperwork from lovely Temari's hand, checking over the form quickly and waving her approval. Gaara didn't like her. Neither did Shukaku.

She cast them a withering look as Temari turned to embrace Gaara once more. "We'll both come visit you on Friday, 'kay?" she pulled back, looking at him with teary eyes. Fidgeting nervously, he crunched his lower lip between his teeth, trying hard not to cry. She stroked his forehead, avoiding the scar with her long fingers, then turned to leave.

Gaara watched her miserably, as she took several long quick strides to the door. She paused, her hand clutching the handle tightly. "Love you!" she called, her voice trembling slightly, and then she was gone leaving the silent adolescent alone. The receptionist grumbled something behind him as she rustled the papers on her desk, looking for his room number. The voices twittered obscenities at the woman as he gave her a sour stare.

He took time to stare blandly at his new "home". The entirety of the room was white, with beige furniture littering the wide tiled floor. There were several desks holding drooping flowers that hung just above dog eared magazines full of idle prattle. A strong, overbearing scent of disinfectant assaulted his nose, and the gentle noises of the building passed quietly, like vapors, around him.

The agitated woman cleared her throat, annoyed, waving the papers in the air. "Just read the number, kid. You're on floor three." Gaara nodded, taking the papers in his trembling hands and walked away, his small, lonely frame fading into the long bleached halls like a receding spectre. The ghastly sounds in his head extended...

_**Banshee, slattern, wench, Banshee slattern wench, banshee slattern wench, bansheeslattern wench, Bansheeslatternwench...**_

Several minutes later, Gaara was settled, having only brought his small wardrobe to fold into his dresser, his three notebooks and a dictionary. Much to his dismay, there was no door, only a thin green curtain. With a sigh, he closed it, attaching the tag on the curtain to the Velcro patch on his wall. As soon as he was sure the world could not see him, he collapsed onto the small cot, his eyes burning with tears. "Why? Why? Why?" his throat still ached from his episode in the hospital, his head throbbed from the fight, and the voices closed in for another attack...

He was too sad to care ...

* * *

Temari returned home several hours later to find a silent Kankuro staring out the window, darkly. "Do you think we did the right thing?" he asked, his voice gentle. She sighed, sitting down beside him and dropping her purse on the floor. "Of course. Why would you ask that?" Kankuro shrugged, his hands cupping a mug of coffee. "He's... all alone there, sis." Temari leaned forward, gently squeezing his arm.

"I know. We just have to hope for the best."

* * *

After leaving the infirmary at the hospital, he'd been taken in to treat the new slashes on his ears, he found the kindly nurse guiding him to the recreational center while informing him of protocol at this wretched facility. "And this is where you spend your free time, dear." he didn't like this nurse, he decided, because she was too happy. Too sweet. Fake.

The room, worn down from use, was filled with old musty chairs and couches spilling their insides on the floor. A beaten down television sat blaring some idiotic cartoon with obnoxious music and screaming voices grating through the soft murmur of the atmosphere. Off to the back wall, he could see a huge shelf of books, slightly bowed under the weights of the dog-eared volumes. The nurse spoke some encouragement behind him, leaving him hugging his dictionary and his notebook to his chest rather childishly.

Across the way, near a beat down pool table, he saw some kids all hanging out and talking in hushed undertones. The other kids all seemed crammed in front of the Television, or nestled on the tattered furniture reading the sad old books, or even a few just staring out the window wistfully at the rain, as though it were the most beautiful sight in the world. The room greatly depressed him.

He felt so out of place. His stomach twisting, he took a tentative step into the room, and sat down by the door, flipping open his notebook to his latest word: Asylum. He fell into the monotony of his research, turning the delicate, worn pages of the dictionary gently, as though it were a bible.

Asylum- Definition an institution used largely for the treatment of the mentally ill or the elderly, very widely known as a mental hospital ie facility.

His fingers shook as he scribbled the words into the lines of the paper, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "I'm... not mentally ill." he said aloud, his voice shattering the silent atmosphere. Big mistake.

The whole room's attention turned towards him, causing him to fidget uncomfortably. Some snickered, pointing at the new kid, while others shot him venomous looks to reprimand him for destroying their peaceful silence. The group by the pool table seemed relatively unconcerned by his outburst, but one of them was pointing at him and talking quite animatedly, or so it seemed.

_**Wouldn't it be great if they all just dropped dead?**_

He winced, his eyes narrowing fretfully at the suggestion. "Don't say that." he spoke quietly this time, avoiding detection, much to his relief. The voices fell silent and he sighed at the sense of peace that settled over him. He glanced at his schedule noting that he had about fifteen minutes left of his break. Then he had to report to some group therapy thing and after that go see a counselor named... Kakashi Hatake.

At that moment, a shadow loomed over him, causing him to peek up through his haphazard hair at the doll faced girl above him. He was fairly certain that she was the one who had been talking about him. "Hey there, cutie," she smiled, reaching down and grabbing his hand. "Wanna talk?" She gave a violent tug on his arm and he sprang up, practically convulsing to escape the touch. She smirked and wrapped her arms around his waist, causing him to give a loud cry of discomfort which invoked a breathless giggle from her small, pouted lips.

"Get off!" he pleaded, jamming his hands against her scrawny arms. "Get off!" the voices were buzzing angrily at her impudence, urging him to strike her, _**claw her pretty face**_, while she clung to him laughing at his discomfort, laughing at his reaction... laughing, laughing, laughing...**Little bitch**.

"Izanami, come on. Leave him alone.' drawled a boy from the far corner of the room, the one housing the broken pool table. The girl pouted, retracting her arms and stamping her feet.

"You never let me have any fun." she whined, her short choppy hair revealing a vivid purple iris set in a wide, mascara drenched eye. Gaara stared hard at her. That couldn't be natural, could it?

The boy rolled his green eyes, proceeding to ignore her and take another scraping stroke with his pencil in his book. "Sis, Enma's right." called a girl who looked very much like Gaara's assailant except her hair was a bit longer in pigtails and she was dressed considerably more conservatively. Her visible eye was red. Weird... he shivered, reaching down for his things, listening to the argument beginning.

"Tch, how was I supposed to know he'd flip, Jigoku?" the other girl gaped at her sister in awe of her... stupidity? Lack of common sense? any of those would work, he noted dryly, straightening up with his books and schedule.

"Uh, You could ask him to come over here and _talk_ to us instead of draping yourself over him like a _cape_." Jigoku stated, crossing her arms firmly across her chest.

"Psht, whatever, you little..." she caught herself, one eye flicking over to Gaara's unimpressed and blithe expression. She smiled. "Want to meet the crew?" she arranged her hair in front of her other eye, looking intently at Gaara's pale face.

"Um... Not really. I mean... It's just that I..." he watched the girl as she turned and darted away not bothering to listen to him. She cleared the space in a matter of seconds. Gaara followed slowly after her, checking to see if the top of his scar was covered. It was. The two streaks that skirted below his eyes couldn't be helped, so he simply turned his face down as he reached the four... friends?

"So," Izanami all but shrieked. "This is my adorable sister Jigoku. She goes by Ji-chan." Jigoku smiled shyly at him, brushing her bangs back behind her ears to reveal a deep purple iris much like her sister's.

"How do you do that?" he blurted, leaning close to examine her eyes.

"Contacts." Jigoku reached up, digging the red disc from her eye to reveal a very plain and uninspiring brown ring around her liquid pupils. She blushed at the closeness. Gaara's amazement must have showed because Jigoku smiled kindly before reinserting the lens over her eye and blinking it into place.

Izanami huffed, clearly not pleased at being ignored. "This is Enma, the suffering artist." With a dramatic flourish, she pointed at the black haired boy who'd saved him in the first place, still with his long thin face buried, scratching very diligently, in his sketchbook. His bangs had a funny fringe dyed into a rainbow ordered streak. She peeked behind him at his drawing. "Ooh, that's good, you should show new kid." Enma swatted at her head, which caused his long sleeve to slide up. A long strip of white bandages peeked through.

"Just finish with your moronic introduction."

Rolling her eyes, Izanami then pointed to an emaciated girl sitting on the ground listening to her iPod very loudly. "This is Lotus. Lotus?" Izanami aimed a swift kick at Lotus' side, watching her lurch forward her blue eyes opening.

"What?" her voice was unnecessarily loud. "What is it?" The headphones slid from her ears, settling behind her head in a comedic fashion. Gaara almost smiled. Almost.

"Say hello to the new kid." Lotus stared hard at Izanami as though she were crazy.

"What? What are you talking about?" she caught a glimpse of Gaara out of the corner of her eye, turning and smiling apologetically at him. "Sorry, my name's Lotus. And you are?" Her eyes were deep blue, tinted with gray. She held his gaze as a performer would. That is to say, it felt like he was being scrutinized, though not in a bad way.

"Gaara..." he mumbled, staring hard at his feet to avoid her too sincere gaze. He lifted his head a fraction of an inch, studying her carefully. She was too skinny. That was all he really cared to notice. Her hair was light and limp, obviously thinned from malnourishment, and her blue eyes were round and heavily underlined with shadows. He didn't like her, he decided, because she was not enough like Temari. No, he did not like her for her too long hair, her too blue eyes, and her too skinny body. End of story. Shukaku agreed.

Come to think of it, he didn't like any of the three girls. Izanami was too touchy and whiny while Jigoku was far too quiet and shy. They all irked him. "So.. what brings you to our defective family?" asked the boy, finally taking the time to pull himself away from his art. Gaara shrugged, not really wanting to tell them anything. He wanted to forget them as soon as possible.

"Come on, Gaara?" wheedled Izanami, her hands clasped in front of her. He scowled to himself, deciding he wouldn't willingly give his name next time.

"If we tell you our reasons will you tell us yours?" offered Jigoku, elbowing Enma's slack arm. Gaara thought for a minute, mulling it over thoughtfully. "I guess..." The four looked at each other, unsure of who should give this information. After a silent consent, Enma began.

"My name is Enma Daioh. I am the unhappy resident of this building for a year now, being locked away for behavioral issues including self-mutilation and some bipolar disorder I suppose." he said it very casually, toying with the piercing running through his lip as he said so. "Izanami Nomikoto has anger issues and an _Insatiable _libido." Izanami cursed punching Enma in the shoulder, as if the point needed reinforcement. Unfazed, Enma continued, "Jigoku Nomikoto is a homosexual. She comes here daily for therapy as her mother is a rabid nonbeliever in gay rights." Jigoku blushed, pushing her hair back into her face and mumbling something.

"And Lotus, although she adamantly denies it, has an eating disorder." Lotus pushed her headphones back over her ears, turning the music up as loud as it would go. "Bulimia, I think."

Doubting his earlier decision, Gaara rocked back on his heals, playing with the black strings of his over sized jacket and feeling the ache in his neck from holding the tilted position of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several shadowy forms standing beside him nodding encouragingly at him to continue. Shukaku leaned forward slightly, undulating his blue tinged and sharply tipped fingers. Gaara took the initiative, taken aback by the sudden visit from favorite voice.

"Well, my name is Gaara Sabaku. I'm here because people who no one can see talk to me.' he looked up, his hair slipping off of his scar and revealing the raised purple slashes that his father had so _**graciously**_ bestowed upon him. His mouth twitched slightly as he saw the horrified look on Lotus' face, having glanced up just as his hair fell back and the strange stares from the Nomikoto twins. Enma, however, remained collected, calm, stoic even...

There was silence in the corner of the room, not a sound but the _tap tap tap _of Enma's pencil on his paper, before he smirked slightly examining Gaara's forehead with interest. It was unsettling, the cold gaze. It was as if he were considering dissecting him, piece by piece. Gaara's scalp tingled.

"You'll fit right in."

* * *

**That's all for now. Please Read and Review. This chapter was so boring. I don't like it. However, I have to get it out-of-the-way. Heh, poor, poor children...**

**Enma: Suffering artist? Really?**

**Me: Don't talk back to me, young man. I made you. Therefore, I know what is right for you.**

**Enma: Right, cutting and a face full of piercings. I pray you never have a child...**

**Me: (T^T)**


	4. Chapter 3: Mirror, Mirror

I only own my oc's. Gaara's point of view this chapter, Yesh... excellent. The rest is, sadly, Masashi Kishimoto's. I like Kishimoto sensei...*Gir moment*

Lotus: ...Mej...? Focus. Focus! *snaps fingers.

Me: Gaara's POV!

* * *

Chapter 3: Mirror, mirror

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall,_  
_Who's the damnedest of us all?_  
_For I find life in my own skin, _

**_Disatisfies me to no end._**

_Mirror, when I scan your face,_  
_I find scars around my wrists._  
_And shadowed eyes glare back at me,_  
_Laced with maddened misery._

_Mirror, mirror, I feel sick._  
_My body's brittle as a stick,_  
_And even though I've grown so thin,_  
_I still despise life in my skin._

_Mirror hanging on my wall,_  
_Aren't I the damnedest of us all?_

Jigoku's poem reverberated with finality around the captivated room as she finished sharing her latest piece with the group leaving everyone sitting there in appreciative silence. I had listened, yes, I had listened to every word, and enjoyed it very much. But I just couldn't tear my eyes from the clock as it ticked, ticked, ticked round and round in a dizzying circle. The poem, the poem... it spoke of mirrors and the distorted views of a person on their own body. How fitting that the girl, so damaged from the cruelty of her fellow man, attempts to foreshadow at the lies of the people in this building.

Little did they know, that as I sat staring strangely transfixed with the simple ticking, ticking, ticking of the clock I was carrying the secrets of their "perfect" asylum in my mouth. Chewing them as a dog gnaws a bone, running them through my mind again, and again. If I chose to speak, which I wouldn't, I could unravel the lies of each person (can you guess who?) easily and expose them as the sad broken things they were.

* * *

I had watched yesterday when my counselor came in, a strange man with prematurely gray hair and a black scarf covering his face, late, the look of hatred that one child had thrown at him. They didn't think I noticed, but I did, the way that he slid his bandaged wrist underneath his chair, grinding it against the hard steel that reinforced it and held it upright. Pushing and twisting and scraping until I glimpsed how the crimson river bled out over the snow white bandages, dying the filmy gauze.

He had relaxed, the terse expression on his face fading, the stiff body posture softening, and his hatred disappearing into a mild look of apathy. So that was his secret. The way he kept himself so calm in the face of adversity and always seemed to look through people as he _skriiitched, skriiiitched _in his sketchbook with that sharpened pencil that he often seemed to admire as the light caught the wicked tip...How sad. A boy who cannot live without spilling his own life source. You'll never guess who.

* * *

And following our uneventful session, I had stayed to talk to this strange man who often seemed to cover the bottom half of his face, perhaps without meaning to. He had asked me generic questions I had heard for many years: Wondering what I heard, and how the people influenced me, were they kind to me, and how often did I go along with what they said?

The people that he couldn't see, the people that he didn't believe in. He claimed to understand, and that's a lie. A sin. No one understands. His lies were well concealed behind his pleasant voice and smiling eyes. I assumed they were smiling since his face was covered by a clipboard. But, because he lied, I know that _**I am sane**_ and should be released. I miss my brother and sister. The time I spend here is pointless, with this boy who can't seem to survive without spilling his life source on the ground and this fake councilor who smiles with his eyes, handing out false promises of understanding and hope. You'll never guess who he is.

* * *

And of course, the girl who so adamantly denied having any problems whatsoever (she weighs 91 pounds) was a liar. I had walked from the cafeteria fifteen minutes exactly after lunch, walking to my room when I saw her disappear behind one of those idiotic curtains. Those stupid, monotonous curtains. They all look the same, so how was I to know that she hadn't gone into my room?

How was I to know that she had gone into the girl's restroom? So naive to my location was I that I had followed the skeletal creature into the bathroom watching in silence as she lifted her shirt to her chest, examining with a disdainful look, her bony body. I had a clear view of each and every rib as it curved down her stomach, or lack there of, in a chaotic line of bones. Her jeans fell off of her hips which jutted painfully from her body, and she shook her head, sighing deeply.

Then, after checking her watch and and turning a shade whiter, she had hurried into the nearest stall, her disfigured form still apparent in the mirror. I had watched with an unnatural alertness, as she had leaned over the porcelain bowl, her fragile body heaving with each coughing retch. I heard the steady plip, plunk, plunk, of vomit hitting the water in time to her brutal heaves. Panting and gasping she had lifted her head from the toilet only to be overtaken by another attack so great that she had fallen to her knees and gripped the sides of the toilet as she expelled the contents of her stomach, noting with a strange sense of pity that I could count the thin disks of her exposed back.

The sight disturbed me for some reason, I can't fathom why, so I turned and left carrying knowledge of this pathetic facility housing a boy who can't seem to survive without spilling his life source on the ground, a fake councilor who smiles with his eyes, handing out false promises of understanding and hope and this sad little girl who destroys herself and her lovely voice by burning her throat with bile. You'll never guess who she is.

* * *

And so, today, I sat amongst the inspired faces of my peers, all requesting to hear the poem again as I stare transfixedly up at the clock as it _ticks, ticks, ticks_, in time to Enma's rasping scrapes against the abused flesh of his wrists... _ticks ticks ticks _to the rythm of Kakashi's pencil as it wrote down the symptoms of my disorder... as it ticks ticks ticks along with Lotus' retches... _ticking, ticking, ticking _a beat to the lyrical words of Jigoku's poem...

_Mirror, mirror on the wall,_  
_Who's the damnedest of us all?_

I'll never tell.

* * *

That's all for now, please Read and review... I know this chapter was kind of... out there. I just couldn't really think of anything else to do here. Sorry!


	5. Chapter 4: Give and Take

**Okay. Still, sadly, Mej Cat owns no Naruto. So... I'm stuck with your four...**  
**Izanami: \(`o')/ Rawr!**  
**MejCat::... On wtih chapter! (Warning: Serious GaaraXOC.)**

**Chapter 4: Give and Take**

* * *

Friday, it was finally, finally Friday. Gaara had waited for several days, checking with the adults constantly to make sure that his perception was right, that he had not somehow missed the day his siblings would come and visit. He missed them so much, he felt he would go insane.

However, for the time being, he had no choice but to sit in the too silent therapy room, as Kakashi and Enma stared each other down. The tension in the room was straining against the silence while Gaara very consistently glared at the clock, willing it to go faster so that he could go and find his family. Two hours, fifteen minutes and counting. _Tick, tick, tick..._

And, unfortunately, because this group session wasn't going to end until one of them caved, he would be stuck staring at the clock as it showed them running five minutes late, later, later... Why did Enma have to cause all this drama? Yes, he still cuts himself. Anyone can see that. No, he does not take his medicine, anyone can see that... Except of course, the "trained professionals." Sigh... later, later, later. Well, maybe Kakashi had known.

Two hours, thirteen minutes and counting, he thought, staring at the occupants of the room. Jigoku and Izanami still stared at Enma in shock, while Lotus cast him a reproachful glare for his snyde comments and blatant disreguard for protocol. Why? It was common knowledge that Enma disliked Kakashi and this facility. Stupid idealistic things, they had already known he refused to cooperate. He glanced back at the clock.

Two hours, twelve minutes and counting... He glanced around again, letting his gaze settle on the skeletal girl. Lotus, he had learned was very musical. Although Gaara had decided that she was too-different, he did enjoy the way she sang, the way she moved. It was rhythmic, the way her hair swayed back and forth, back and forth, the way her feet tapped right left, right left against the hard floor... it was comforting.

Sort of like the clock, he mused, silently. The clock entered his line of sight again, _Tick tick tick_: Two hours ten minutes and counting. The voices had begun a low muttering growl several ticks of the clock ago.

**_Hurry, hurry. You'll miss them, you'll miss their visit... hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry..._**

He mouthed the chant to himself, scraping his hands against his legs rather anxiously. "Hurry, hurry!" a tiny sound formed on his lips... Kakashi sighed, lowering his eyes rather sadly. "Enma, I think it's time you went home. Go to the office and call your parents. You're all dismissed."

* * *

"I can't believe you got yourself kicked out." snapped Izanami, slapping the back of Enma's head. Gaara suppressed a smile at the lack of reaction from the other boy.

"I'm impressed that they finally wised up and sent me home." he glanced at Gaara who was still staring at him rather confusedly. Gaara couldn't quite understand why he was happy to leave. Didn't his family send him here to get better? "What?" Gaara shrugged.

"Um, well... Didn't you come here becau-"

"I was forced to come here for who knows why. Rest assured, my mom doesn't care." he spat, before Gaara could even finish. His mood had shifted again. "And neither do I." Gaara opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by a rather icy glare from the dark haired boy. "Not another word, **psycho." **Enma seemed to have turned into a darker version of Sasuke. It had become apparent in Gaara's few days here that Enma's shifts were like black and white. One minute quietly sketching and answering honestly, the next sneering at anyone and everyone while jeering and pointing out their flaws. He didn't like him anymore. Neither did Shukaku.

_**That little fool. Who does he think he is? He shouldn't get to leave. He doesn't even care about his family. Who is he to call you crazy? The little-**_

"-aara, not psycho!" he looked up, eyes searching wildly for the person who'd spoke his name. "You apologize to Gaara right now!" Lotus was very angrily jabbing Enma in the shoulder. "And never say that again. He got enough of that at school." Enma swatted her hand away, jabbing her rather cruelly in the center of her bony chest. "Alright. Lay off the ipecac and I'll leave your freaky new boyfriend alone." The cold smile tearing Enma's face caused Gaara's stomach to clench painfully... But the pained look in Lotus' eyes lit a small acidic coil of hatred in his insides.

"Th-that's uncalled for." he murmured, wondering why he was sticking up for this girl who was too-skinny, too blonde, too blue eyed..."And... and I won't let you talk to her like that." The boy's gaze shifted restlessly and he stood up shrugging. He stalked to the corner where Gaara stood and flicked his hair out of his face, revealing the painful purple scar.

"I wonder, where do you get off defending other people," he scratched one fingernail against the scar rather cruelly. "When you can't defend yourself?" Gaara had no answer, he simply stared up at him through his flaming hair with his lower lip crushed up under his teeth.

Enma scoffed, flicked Gaara's forehead once more, his sharp fingernails stinging the raised flesh, then turned and left. The only sound in the room was the whirring flutter of voices pounding through Gaara's ears and the low growling of the violent Nomikoto twin.

"_**Oooh, I am gonna throttle that boy!**_" screamed Izanami, turning and bolting after him. Jigoku looked nervously between the two, as if trying to find an oncoming panic attack. "Uh... are you two okay?" The ginger in the corner gave no response, simply staring wide-eyed at nothing.

"Yeah. Go... go stop your sister." Jigoku turned and left, cracking her knuckles with a dark laugh.

"Who said I was going to help **him**?" and the curtain swished back into place.

_**They're worthless, all of them. The world would be better off without them... fools. And you! How dare you defend that skeleton of a girl. She's worthess. What would Temari say?**_

"Gaara..." the boy still remained silent, his mouth moving in a silent dialogue. She walked cautiously up to him, reacing out to touch him. "No!" he flinched before her fingers even made contact.

"Don't touch me... please." he backed away, still staring at her nervously.

"I forgot! I'm sorry..." she said, sincerely. She gave him a smile as she stepped back, as if trying to show all of her teeth. She smiled like... just like... Gaara's face felt hot as his heart thudded painfully in his narrow rib cage. He backed away, his mind beating frantically to escape the affection blossoming for this scrawny, foolish girl who smiled just like his sister.

"Ju-just... leave me alone!" She looked hurt, her smile fading. His chest ached at the sight. "I'm... I'm sorry!" he stammered, floundering a bit as he got caught in the curtain. Struggling wildly, he tore free and ran off down the hall, not caring where he went or anything else.

_**You traitor... you like her... You like her... Temari would hate you for that. So would Kankuro. You know it's true...**_

Shukaku's voice tore his thoughts wickedly, pumping acidic pain in through his brain. "I know..." he whispered, repeating it to himself as he wandered aimlessly down the corridor. "I'm being stupid. What's so great about her anyways?" he reasoned with himself, glancing around. Wait... Did he hear his name?

"Gaara!" a voice he didn't recognize was calling down the hall. "Yoohoo! Gaara Sabaku!" it was a tall blond boy with a huge grin lighting up his face. "Ooh, I saw that! You can't pretend you didn't hear me." He was carrying a messenger's bag and dragging a big plastic bin.

Gaara stopped and stared at him rather apathetically. "What do you...?" the boy stopped in front of him, breathing a bit heavily. "Okay.. okay. I'm here to tell you that you're starting some new medicine today." Gaara eyed him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, oh. Right." the boy grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "My name's Naruto Uzumaki. I used to be a patient here, but was discharged three days ago. So, I decided to help out around here." He smiled proudly. "My current errand is to give you your new meds." Naruto, Gaara noted, couldn't seem to sit still. Weird. Digging around a messenger bag dangling from his side, the boy began "Sooo... I think they're... right... Oh crap." he withdrew his hand from his bag, scratching the back of his head embarassedly. "Well, uh... I think I forgot them in the office sooo... you might need to stick around with me for a while. Sorry."

A wave of panic rose up Gaara's throat. "Wait! No, I'll miss my visit with, with my siblings! I can't!" Naruto smiled reassuringly, kindly.

"No, hey, Gaara. It's fine. You've still got an hour before your visit." He turned and began off down the hall, signaling for Gaara to follow. In spite of himself, Gaara obeyed, trotting quickly beside him.

"So, what are you in for?" asked Naruto after a brief perioud of silence. Gaara shrugged, really not wanting to tell anyone anything... not after what happened with Enma. Without really waiting for an answer, the other boy continued, "Yeah, I was the same as you when I got here." The boy shook his head defiantly, his wild hair flopping comically about his head. "I was all, "I ain't tellin' you squat!" but then I learned that the sooner I spilled the beans, the sooner they'd let me go." He winked one cerulean eye at the silent Gaara, now chewing pensively on his thumb nail. "Then, they gave me my meds, and now I work here. The end!" Gaara nodded, proving that he'd been listening, but still refusing to respond.

"Sooo... How long have you been here?" Gaara shrugged, deciding he wouldn't tell this boy anything. "Okay, ummm... Got any friends here?" Another shrug. Naruto gave an agitated sigh. "You know, it's hard carrying on a conversation with you." he pouted, throwing his arms behind his head and allowing the two to walk down the hall in relative silence... for all of two minutes. "Sooo... if I tell you what's wrong with me will you tell me what's wrong with you?" Gaara shrugged again, for lack of a better response. Naruto seemed to take that as a yes, because he very conspiratorialy leaned close to Gaara's ear and whispered, "I'm schizophrenic. I hear voices and all that jazz." he leaned back over, not breaking his stride. "Okay, spill it.." Left, right, left right came his rhythmic footfalls on the bleached white floors.

But Gaara had stopped walking staring at Naruto slack-jawed. "You... you hear them too?" Naruto stopped walking having realized that he'd left his traveling companion behind.

"Uh, hang on... yeah!" he ran back up to Gaara, staring at him in concern. "Oh. So do I. I got here three days ago." With a satisfied sigh, Naruto nodded, looking thoughtfully at the ground. "You know, we're like mirror images! Or.. or a, what are those called again? A pal-y- tron?" Gaara allowed himself a small smile.

"Palindrome, Definition- A phrase or word that can be read the same backwards and forwards." Naruto nodded.

"Exactly so! Isn't it cool?" the blond jumped excitedly up and down, smiling at Gaara the whole time.

"Sort of... the definition doesn't really match up..." Naruto waved the thought away, pointing down the hall and crying,

"And thus the two friends marched off the hall to finish their quest!" Gaara smiled slightly at this strange boy. A friend...

* * *

"So... this is Enma's room." said Naruto, drawing the curtain and looking around the room with interest. Ah, of course they would be cleaning out **his **room. Gaara scowled slightly, choosing to stand in the doorway rather than enter this wretched room. "Eh, what a shame. I liked the kid, but man, was he _weeeird_!" he twirled one finger in a circular motion beside his head, beginning to pile the books and clothes into the bin rather gracelessly. "Great artist though." Gaara simply stood there watching the way Naruto cleared the things from the dresser that Enma had kept in an orderly fashion, not even noticing when a small photograph slipped out from the pages of one of Enma's many sketchbooks.

Gaara noticed it and try as he may, he couldn't help but wonder who Enma would keep a picture of. He fidgeted uncomfortably as he battled with his curiosity. After several minutes of inner turmoil, he gave in, taking several steps in, and snatching the picture from the ground. As he flipped it over, he glanced up at Naruto who was still chattering away and didn't even notice that Gaara had moved from one place to the other. He examined the picture in his thin fingers, eyes widening as he recognized the girl smiling from the glossy paper.

It was Lotus, only... the circles under her eyes were gone, her hair was fuller, healthier, and her body was normal. She didn't look like a skeleton with static shoulders atop her torso and a sore, swollen neck. She was... pretty. And smiling that smile that made him think of lovely Temari. Temari... would she really hate him if he befriended the girl? The voices rose to respond, but Gaara rather forcefully denied their claims this time, startling them into submission. With a slight shiver, he could feel the glare Shukaku cast him from inside his mind. He would pay for this later.

"Alright, ready to go?" asked Naruto, bringing him back from his thoughts. "Uh, yeah." he slid the picture quietly into his pocket, feeling a slight thrill at the thought of defying the voices. "Cool, now let's get that medicine."

* * *

His day was almost over, almost, almost... after lunch he'd get to see his brother and sister. Oh, he couldn't wait! The tray of (inedible) food on his plate sat rather ignored as his fingers skirted nervously over the edge of the table, toying with his plastic spork. He hummed quietly to himself, some song he'd picked up from Lotus, and lifted his eating utensile in a rather strange motion. With a sigh, he shifted his anxious gaze over to the smooth pile of mashed potatoes and smashed the spoon through the gravy. It spread over the flattened starch like... like, blood pooling out over ivory skin.

A low growl and a loud clatter brought Gaara from his thoughts rather suddenly as Izanami, her temper foul once more, plopped sulkily down to the table. "Hey." she muttered, stabbing a misshapen hunk of fatty chicken. The nugget, much to Gaara and Izanami's surprise, bounced her spork up and down, up and down in a disturbing, yet impressive display of strength.

"That's not right." Izanami wrinkled her nose in disgust and pushed the tray towards Gaara, who brushed it aside with a gentle _scraaape_.

"You're not usually here for lunch." observed Gaara quietly. Izanami sighed dramatically, pressing her hand to her forehead.

"Alas, that wretched banshee of a woman masquerading as my mother refuses to pick my sister and I up in a timely fashion, so we are forced to consume this... this... slop." she sighed again. "Oh, the inhumanity." Gaara fought the urge to smile at the melodramatic girl, but settled for nibbling at the dry crumbling edge of the grease saturated meat on his plate.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the clock ticking slowly by: Less than fourty-five minutes before his visit... tick, tick tick, fourty four...

Then he saw Lotus, her long hair swaying back and forth, to and fro in the same comforting rhythm it always did. When she reached them, her music once again blaring in her ears, she plopped heavily in the seat beside him. "Hey, Gaara." she gave him a small smile, staring at him with a half lidded stare. He swallowed, staring at her wide-eyed. "Uhh... h-hi."

She giggled, pulling out an acidic yellow piece of paper. "Naruto told me to give you this." she said, sleepily, as she slipped the note across the tabletop. He nodded his thanks, unfolding the paper.

**Take your medicine, two pills. Make sure you eat first!**  
**Your Palenjrome,**  
**Naruto U**.

Gaara rolled his eyes. His spelling was egregious... but the note had a point, so he set to work inhaling the poorly prepared meal in front of him. "Lotus, what's up with you?" he heard Izanami ask the question and stopped briefly to hear her answer. Lotus lowered her head to her elbows.

"Just a bit tired today, I guess." she sighed, closing her eyes. Gaara watched her for a minute, swallowing hard to send the mash of food down his throat. He had eaten more than three fourths of it, and his stomach didn't feel it could handle any more. Quickly, he reached into his pockets, and retrieved the neon orange plastic container. Working from experience, he expertly snapped the cap off, popped out two pills, and tossed the two heavy capsules back, dry.

Then, he turned his attention back to Lotus. She looked totally dead, her emaciated form hunched over the table and her shadowed eyes closed. With a shaky breath, he watched Izanami's reaction as he reached across and brushed the hair from her neck. Very, very tenderly, the way his siblings had always been with him, he rubbed his hand against the back of her neck.

"Mmm." the noise surprised him and he drew back worry etched into his face. She lifted herself up a bit, reinstating the contact of his hand. Izanami rolled her eyes.

"Don't mind me. I'm just your friendly third wheel, waiting for my idiot of a sister and my wench of a mother to come pick me up." There was a clatter next to Izanami, who jumped and turned to see her sister scowling at her head.

"Mom's coming in like... five minutes. Holy crap your impatient." she sat down next to Izanami, crossing her arms. "And dramatic."

The two twins argued as Gaara continued to massage the back of Lotus' sore neck. She turned her head, cracking an eye to look at him, smiling softly. He blushed, the fingers of his other hand digging through his pockets to find the photograph. "Lotus... I want to ask you something." his voice shook slightly.

"Yeah...? her voice was slow and tired. With a deep breath, he set the picture of that Lotus down next to her. She sat up, a frown creasing her sick face. "Where did you get that?"

"Wh-what did you do to yourself?" he blurted, desperate to know how someone could turn from a healthy looking girl to a stick. It was the wrong thing to say, obviously, for her eyes darkened to a frightening stormy glare.

"What was that?" He leaned back a bit, watching her warily.

"I want to know what... what you-" she slapped him, her bony hand leaving a dark red mark on his cheek.

"How dare you? You met me less than three days ago and you think you know me?" a wave of contempt bit the back of Gaara's throat at the assumptuous, ghoulish little girl.

"**Well, do you**?" Gaara remained silent, his mouth pulled into a tight frown and his eyes boring holes into her cold eyes. She slapped him again, causing him to snatch her wrist into a tight vice-like hold.

"Bulimarexia. Definition: An eating disorder commonly found in young women, characterized by a cycle of intensive dieting, binge eating and purging, such as through **_self induced vomiting_**." he said it coldly, leaning his face close to hers and watching as her mouth twitched. "I saw you."

"Let. Go. Of. Me." his hold loosened and she snatched her hand away, standing up and casting him a withering look. "_**Screw you, you freaking stalker!**_" the harsh tone in her normally gentle musical voice startled him, and then she was gone. All was silent at the table.

* * *

In the clean reception room, Gaara sat nervously on the edge of a beige sofa, waiting for his loyal Kankuro and lovely Temari to come through the door... but it was five minutes past the three and they still weren't here. If they missed the visit, he would die. He knew it. He just did... Another five minutes had passed... Tears filled his eyes.

But there was a noise behind him as his eyes were abruptly covered by a pair of soft feminine hands. "Guess who-oo!" He whirled around coming face to face with his big sister.

"Temari!" he flung his arms around her neck, spotting Kankuro standing with his arms folded and a small smile playing on his lips. "You came! You came, you came!" he practically sang, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Then, he looked very seriously at his brother and held out his hand. "Kankuro..." his voice was severe, which caused the older boy to return Gaara's smile and close the gap between them. However, the usual hand touch was ignored and Kankuro enveloped him in a spine snapping bear hug. Gaara didn't pull away, rather he eased into it, returning it in kind as Temari watched with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

As Gaara settled in for the night, his dictionary in hand and his notebooks beside him, he couldn't help but reflect on his better than usual day. He felt so happy and at peace and... and... he wasn't hearing voices. They seemed to have disappeared after lunch, leaving his mind weightless and quiet. All the more reason for his excellent temper. Although his cheek still stung from where Lotus had slapped him.

It was just after ten, as Gaara began researching the definition for melifluous, that he heard a loud coughing sound from the room beside his... the girl's restroom. He sat up a bit straighter, wondering if he had imagined it. There was another cough, louder this time and followed by a heavy ragged bout of breathing. "Help..." it was faint, he could just barely make out the word. With a gasp, Gaara flung the blankets off himself, books flying everywhere as he turned and raced out of his room, ripping the curtain to the girl's restroom open to find a pair of long skinny legs protruding from the farthest stall.

"Are you, you, are you okay?" he called, dashing quickly to the open stall to rescue whomever was in trouble only to find Lotus sprawled out across the floor, her hand pressed lightly to her chest. "Lotus?" he shook her slightly, watching the way her head lolled to the side. "Lotus?" She coughed, something leaking out over her lips. He pressed his ear to her chest, listening with a strange terror to the uneven beating of her heart.

Yes, today was deffinately a day of "Give and Take."

* * *

**Oookay, that was way longer than I anticipated. So I'm cutting it off here. Sorry for the... lengthy and rather scattered writing. Hope you like it please Read and review.**  
**Lotus: Why do you torture me like that?**  
**Mej Cat: We will discuss this later.**  
**Lotus: -.-***


	6. Chapter 5: Tempo

My almighty sensei, Kishimoto, still own Naruto. Sad face.  
Gaara: Just get this over with so I can be sane again.  
MejCat: Nani? When were you ever...?  
Gaara: *Points* You... have a point. I hate when your right.

**Chapter 5: Tempo**

* * *

_"Wake up!" Gaara staggered under Lotus' weight. "Wake up!" he was practically sobbing. Despite the fact that Lotus was more than twenty pounds underweight, he didn't seem to posses the strength to support her limp body. "Please..." his knees gave out under him, sending him toppling to the ground with Lotus on top of him, both sprawled across the waxy white floors. "Wake, wake...up!" he placed his hands on both of Lotus' shoulders, shaking her lightly._

_The girl gave a hacking cough, producing a thin dribble of bile tinged red with..._

_"Help!" Gaara's scream tore the silent hallway to chaos._

* * *

Several hours later, after the electric whines of the defibrillators and the sea of doctors had dissipated, Gaara still slouched beside Lotus' limp form. Her chest rose and fell jerkilly, her breathing hitching in her torn, swollen throat. There was no rhythm to her body's motion. The thought disturbed him greatly.

_Comatose: 1.) of, like, or in a coma or stupor 2.) as if in a coma; lethargic; torpid_

For once, the familiar act of defining words brought no comfort. He scrawled a line down the side of the paper, imagining a thin black line cut through the white like a deep gash, another attempt to escape his fear. Still unable to deflect the sharp gnawing in his insides, he receded into the recesses of his mind, imagining life as if it were paper, all monochromatic and immobile; Forever trapped in a single moment, unable to change or die... a comfort in some ways, a hindrance in others,

Lotus stirred lightly on the cot beside him, jolting him from his black and white world. Her eyelids fluttered a bit as she shifted uncomfortably in the small confined bed. He dropped his books, again, and leaned forward, his hands gripping the thin bony points of his knees. "Are... are you?" she moved again, sitting up painfully, slowly, stiffly shaking as she did. Gaara pressed his hands against her back, supporting her as she regained her bearings.

"Gaara?" she sounded tired, as she had earlier that day during lunch. Her voice was a bit raspy. He looked down, wondering if she was still mad at him. She reached behind his arms and with considerable difficulty rearranged her pillows to support her in Gaara's stead. Once she was finished, Gaara pulled back entirely, his arms crossed over his lap, and his feet turned in as his knees locked together. "Why are you-?" she rather gingerly pressed her fingers to the front of her neck in obvious discomfort. However, her pain seemed to answer her question.

"Oh. So you found me?" Gaara nodded, kicking his legs out as rhythmically as he could. Right, left, right, left, ri- no he missed a beat. "How?" Right lef- crap. He missed again. There was definitely suspicion in her voice. Right, left, right, left...

"Not by stalking you, if that's what your implying." the coldness in his own voice startled him. It hadn't been meant that way, but... it was true. He lightly touched the bruise on his cheek, feeling it throb a bit under the sudden pressure. "The girl's restroom is right next door to my room." He glanced up, staring hard at her. "You scared me." he lifted his head completely, leaning forward, his elbow on his knee, and cupping his chin in his hand. Right right right ri- why did he keep screwing up?

Lotus bit her lip as she saw the bruise she'd, quite literally, slapped onto his face. "And I think you should know," Gaara's fingers pressed wickedly into said bruise. "That was stupid."

"I know." she spoke dismissively, as if it wasn't a big deal that her throat was scorched from bile and her heart had just been electrocuted back to a normal beat. Gaara felt it necessary to elaborate further, to make her understand.

"Moronic, actually. Or even better: hebenedetuous." Lotus' mouth tightened, anger visibly seeping into her features. So be it, he thought. She almost killed herself.

"I. Get. It." her jaw clenched and unclenched. , _Tighten, release, tighten release, tighten, release_. Ah, her natural tempo was returning.

"No. I, I... don't think..." she lifted her hand as if to strike him as she had earlier and he flinched back, reflexively. Her eyes softened a bit and her hands fell back to the mattress as if her anger had turned to guilt. "What did you do to yourself?" the question resurfaced before he could stop himself. He felt out of his own control, as if he couldn't keep the questions from flying off his tongue. "Because whatever goals you may have... are... are... killing you! You're being stupid-"

"**_Shut up_!" **her voice cracked from the trauma to her throat. "_**Do you think I don't know how disgusting it is? I hate it as much as you." **_she swatted the lamp from her nightstand, sending it shattering across the floor. "_**And if I'm so freaking stupid... why do you even care?" **_she glared at him, acidic anger dripping from her face.

"How should I know? I'm psycho." he responded quietly, touching his bruise again. There was silence throughout the room, only broken by the quiet steady bleeps of the heart monitor. _Blip, blip, blip... _"You're so different from my sister, it's hard to imagine that I could be attracted to you. Especially after you hit me." he stared hard at his feet. "And the, the voices... obviously hold you in contempt." as a matter of fact, there was a lovely chorus of sound blossoming at the base of his skull hissing insults at Lotus as he spoke.

_**You ungrateful little witch. He should have let you die, let you lay there and choke on your own vomit. Foolish little creature... Sad little skeleton.**_

"But... she has such a pretty voice." he defended, eyes widening at the sudden attack. "And... and I liked the way she looked before she lost all that weight. And when she smiles... it's just like, like..." he lifted his head back up, looking so lost and confused. Why were they back? Had his medicine worn off already?

Lotus stared at him with such... pity, sadness, apology... tenderness? Since when did someone outside his small family care for him? "And I really, really don't want you to keep hurting yourself like that." her eyes seemed to cloud over a bit. "You almost died."

"I'm so sorry." she reached out to him, allowing him to choose whether or not to accept her touch. "I'm sorry, Gaara. For worrying you, for hitting you..." he scooched his chair closer and took her hand in his, stroking the back lightly with his shaking fingers. He wanted her to know that he accepted her apology. The voices were losing their potency, dying back down into their dank little caves. Lotus lifted her hand from his, brushing her fingers lightly under the unkempt red hair that shielded his forehead.

She pushed her hands a little further along his face, reaching the scar he was so ashamed of. A sign of his own weakness and the horrible memories that he carried. He gasped, his body shivering violently when she touched it, but she very gently stroked the thick ropy lines, humming reassuringly. Slowly, with each retracing of the kanji, Gaara's body relaxed, his eyes growing a bit heavy as she stroked a slow, loving tempo: _right, left, down, right, left, across, right, left, right, right, right, left, across right, down, down._

After several repetitions, her hand slid down to his cheek, tenderly stroking the discoloured flesh from where she'd hit him, then tracing his abused lower lip with her thumb. There was a thin jagged film of dead skin. He examined her face quietly, eyelids half shut. "Come here." she pleaded, softly, as she leaned forward in the cot.

He tilted himself enough so that their faces almost touched, her thumb sliding down to his chin. "I'm sorry... that you've been hurt." she said again, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his cheek. The contact surprised him, causing him to inhale quickly through his mouth. Lotus drew back, looking at him in concern. Gaara shook his head slightly, pressing both hands haltingly to her face. Gaara gave an insistent tug, as if he wanted her to kiss him again.

She pressed her lips to his this time, feeling him lean forward a bit more. Lotus wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly to her chest. And when they broke apart, Gaara moved from the chair to the bed, sitting calmly on the side with his arms around her waist. He leaned his head against hers, feeling, with a sense of security, the restored tempo of her heart beat against his. _Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump..._

* * *

**Okay. Unnaturally short chapter filled with gooey fluff. Yay for fluff. I hope this one was okay. It feels wrong, so very wrong.**  
**Gaara: Well, it's obvious. I'd never actually do that.**  
**Lotus:...**


	7. Chapter 6: Seven

I hate this stupid disclaimer, it just rubs in the fact that I don't own Naruto. Pheh...  
Jigoku: That makes... no sense.  
MejCat: I'm irrational, obviously, or else you wouldn't exist.  
Jigoku: That still... makes no sense.  
MejCat:... Gaara's POV.

**Chapter 6: Seven**

* * *

Seven, I have come to realize, is a very meaningful number. There are seven colours in the symbolic rainbow, seven cardinal sins by which we try to define the damnation of our fellow man, and seven days in the endless blur of weeks that inevitably shape time itself. It seems that the number is simply destined to hold premise over a wide array of subjects, even in the lives of insignificant misanthropes like me.

For example, there are seven nasty voices in my head that like to scream and rasp out venomous lies. There are seven pills, (yes, the number grew unfortunately) to override this, to dampen their cries and send them scurrying for cover. The rule is easy to spot and makes perfect sense: one pill per voice, and the seven pills last for seven hours. It's proportionate, and proportion is good, comforting in fact. I like it better when things are consistent, rhythmic, proportionate etcetera etcetera.

By the same token, I've spent exactly seven weeks here in this mental facility. I have seven friends, and the word has seven letters: One letter for each of these seven friends: (f)Lotus, (r)Jigoku, (i)Izanami, (e)Naruto, (n)Kakashi, (d)Temari, and (s)Kankuro. Amazing, isn't it?

If the number needed any further proof of it's uncanny hold on me, examine my friends. Lotus has gained exactly seven pounds since her release from the intensive care unit of the facility, Jigoku has written seven poems since my arrival, Izanami has been in seven fights with various adolescents, Naruto has a habit of talking to me seven times a day, Temari and Kankuro have come to visit me seven times, and Kakashi... said I could go home precisely seven minutes into our forty-ninth therapy session.

It had definitely been unexpected, causing a thick silence to fall over the room, like snow. He didn't press me, though. He didn't ignore me, he simply sat with me, reviewing the points of our past conversations as I tried to comprehend what he was saying. I could go home, to my family. I could go outside, where the air smelled fresh and crisp instead of harsh and medicinal. I could be surrounded by colours, lost in the varying hues that birthed the familiar arch across the sky, instead of being stifled in this vast ivory sea of bleached corridors and snowy rooms.

"Do you feel that you're ready to leave?" Kakashi had asked, finally, a note of curiosity in his voice. Perhaps the silence had dragged on a bit too long, I mused, tapping my fingers against the smooth leather couch under me.

"Yes, of course... I've been ready to leave for seven weeks...but," as if unsure of what I meant myself, I paused to think.

"But?" the man prompted kindly, patiently. I stared at him intently, trying to formulate my sentence before I spoke.

"But, I don't know if I'm really ready, do you see?" the man had chuckled quietly to himself, causing my face to burn with embarrassment. The chemical imbalance that birthed the hideous cacophony in my head was still lethargic, immobilized from the pills, henceforth incapable of mocking me or this quiet man. Much to my great relief

"Well... I suppose." he said, thoughtfully. "You mean that you want to go, but you don't know if you should?" I nodded, pleased that he'd deciphered my garbled logic. Sometimes, my own brain disappointed me. You'd think after having practically read a dictionary, I'd be capable of forming a cohesive sentence. "I assure you, it's normal to feel a bit nervous." he smiled, at least I think he did. "You've been here seven weeks after all. But I hardly feel I need to remind you that your brother and sister are competent, and the door is always open should you feel the need to return."

The words brought about a rather... calming sensation. As if, maybe, it was possible that I could live a normal life with loyal Kankuro and Lovely Temari. Maybe I could! Who knows... maybe I could even go back to school. That would be a big step for me, and Kankuro and Temari would be proud, maybe? They wouldn't have to put so much effort into my education...

"But what about Lotus?" the question startled us both having simply appeared from far off in the left-field.

"What about her?" he seemed genuinely confused. I suppose I'd never discussed her with him. Perhaps now was inopportune...

"Well," I fidgeted a bit, tracing a particularly deep scar behind my left ear. "We're... friends... and... I wanted to know when she was leaving." Kakashi's eyes brightened and I felt a knot of apprehension twisting itself around my neck. Now... would I be pelted with questions about how I, Psycho, managed to snag the musical bulimic? Or would I be pressed on the details of our relationship? I hoped not... not that there was much to tell. We really just held hands and talked... maybe we'd kiss if the other was having a bad day. My fingers skittered dully across the reflective surface of the leather sofa, making an almost muted tapping sound. The suspense was absolutely nerve wracking.

"Oh, she's being dismissed today as well. And... seeing as how we're really done here," he checked his watch. "I think you two should go and exchange information... so you can stay in touch." he winked one knowing gray eye. Gratefully, but more than a bit embarrassed, I stood up and gave my best shot at a smile for the man, who was really okay once you got to know him, and left. Although... I vaguely though I heard him mutter something about "young love" much to my chagrin.

* * *

Lotus was sitting in the office when I found her, talking animatedly on the phone to her... father. Yes, I believe it was her father. So, I waited. Although, I really was loathe to do so because of the strange way fate seemed to be smiling on me. It always seemed that whenever I was excited about anything important, really, I had to wait. Murphy's law in effect, I suppose. In a feeble attempt to fend off my impatience, I began counting the stripes on my old baggy hoodie.

Seven black stripes, eight white and one big red blood-like splatter over my heart. By far the best gift Temari had ever given me. It was sort of like the way humans are. They are either good, or evil. There is no in between, but everyone has a huge crimson stain somewhere in them that either gives them one horrible flaw to mar the seamless face they were given, or one redeeming quality amongst the black sea of sin they allowed themselves to swim in... Like... for instance, Naruto's disorder in light of his personality, or Sasuke's ability as opposed to his cruel nature...

"Okay. See you soon, bye!" the voice broke my concentration, jolting me rather suddenly from my morbid musings. Lotus just had that effect on me, I guess. I watched her hang up the phone and clap her hands happily before she turned and saw me. Her face had filled out a bit since when I'd first met her and she was far more asthetically pleasing. "Gaara! Are you going home too?"

I nodded, not really possessing the capacity to speak, still being thorougly frazzled from my transition to the real world. "Oh, that's good." she looked sad. "I'm going to miss you..." the words brought a small flicker of a smile to my face. She sat down beside me, squeezing my hand in hers. The simple act always left me marveling at how delicate her hands were. I felt Lotus lean forward a bit, her steady breathing whispering in my ears as she leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on the ropy scar above my left eye.

"...Could I have your phone number?"

* * *

It took an astounding fifteen minutes for Temari and Kankuro to come and retrieve me from the Jin Chuuriki Mental Facility. I assumed she had sped halfway across town to get here, but was I any less happy to see them? They intended to take me somewhere, anywhere I chose, to celebrate my return. I couldn't fathom why. Isn't going to an asylum at all considered bad, and being released frowned upon by the bigots who inhabited the city Shinobi? Why celebrate it? But... they insisted, so rather uncertainly I suggested we go to the mall. We never really went, and there was a multitude of activities there.

It was there that I met Temari's friend, Shikamaru who worked at a tattoo and piercing shop. Surprising, since the man was obviously hyper-intelligent, but he was relatively unmotivated. So, I suppose his job fit him well enough: Pays a decent wage, and is engaging to a certain degree. I like him, though. He's laid back and quiet, which suits me just fine. And when I mentioned going back to school, they were ecstatic. A bit worried, I'll admit, but proud of my willingness to progress.

Maybe... just maybe I can live a normal life? If I can keep those seven voices quiet, with my seven pills... the idea disgusts me. I shouldn't have to take medicine to be normal. Maybe I can control it if I just practice.

So... that's why, maybe for the first week? I won't take my medicine.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

That's all for now. Please Read and Review. This chapter is a bit... odd. Out there, but I hope it suits the purpose of the story.


	8. Chapter 7: Six

Grah, I'm in a terrible, terrible mood. So, enjoy this Gaara-toruring chapter. This is where the horror comes in, and because I don't own Naruto, it means death to whoever the heck I want in this story. Maybe even you! -points at Gaara.  
Gaara: O^O What'd I do to you?  
Mej Cat: I blame you for my lack of social skills.  
Gaara: It's not my fault you're obsessive.  
Mej Cat: Yes, but I'm obsessed with YOU!  
Gaara:... sigh.

Chapter 7: Six

* * *

With dull eyes, Gaara watched the hypnotic motions of his six bladed fan as it _fwip, fwip, fwipped _through the air, slicing it in two and throwing it into his eyes, long since glazed over with exhaustion. The chopped chunks of wind slapped his face relentlessly, causing his listless eyes to water slightly, and he periodically blinked the moisture away. His thoughts were rather stubbornly clamped onto the fact that his first night home in just under two months, and he'd screwed _every_. **Freaking. _Thing. Up. Stupid, stupid, stupid._**

_**Stupid, stupid, stupid. Foolish, sad, broken little doll. Who will love you now?**_

Of course, his medicine had worn off at this critical time. He ignored them, searching for Shukaku, face blank as the broken breeze slapped his face, drying the sticky trail of tears under his eyes. Shukaku did not appear, he remained silent and hidden. With a groan of discomfort, he turned over, smashing his face into his pillow until his breath scraped through his nose. He hadn't meant to upset them, honeslty he hadn't! Did it really matter, though?

Even if he hadn't meant to upset them with the question, he had still managed to do it. (_Will I have to take this medicine for the rest of my life? Nervous glances and dismissive answers...)_

Even if he hadn't meant to lose his temper, he had. (_No, you don't understand! You never will. Don't tell me what to do! Shut up! Sad eyes, uncertain reactions...)_

Even if though he'd tried to go apologize, it was impossible because Kankuro was asleep.

Even though he'd tried to be normal it... hadn't...

_**It didn't work, did it, psycho?**_

A strangled cry slipped dully through the cushion crushed up against his mouth and disappeared into a strange, unnatural silence. It was almost as if the cry could somehow resurface any moment and tear the turbulent air in his small room apart. Feeling spent and hollow, Gaara's eyes slid shut and locked together as he plummeted into an unwilling sleep with darkened thoughts swirling angrilly through his imperfect mind...

* * *

He saw himself in a long dark hallway that stretched on and on and on... fading into eerie shadows that wavered across the barren walls. Voices drifted through the air, whispering a garbled language that slithered through the dark atmosphere. He shivered slightly as a light appeared, thickly massed into a rectangular window, against one of the long narrow walls. Feet tapping against the marbled floors, he rushed into the warmth of the glowing window to find a huge glass case with a too-real wax work figure inside. With glassy blue eyes that stared dazedly into the distance, a scrawny, thin girl with her torso cut away was suspended inside, blood trickling from the corner of her pale lips. Just under the furthest window pane, a small white label read, "Bullimarexia, ie Bulimia Nervosa" The girl looked awfully familiar...

Another flash lit up the room drawing his probing eyes from the macabre image of the skeletal creature and dashed to the next exhibit. Inside sat a pale, gaunt boy. His arms were drawn above his head, peppered with shards of glass and razors with babred wire twining wickedly down the abused flesh of his wrists as his hands dangled uselessly from his skewered arms. "Bipolar Disorder, examplerary of the Depressive state" Gaara couldn't remember his name...

Again, a bright square of light cut through the darkness, and the cycle continued. The third window showcased a small dollfaced girl with blood red eyes hunched inside a circle of mannequins, all pointing and towering above her, and the next a girl with violet eyes standing erect in a similar ring of shattered figures, dripping paint of different colours. After that came a stocky blond boy, hunched over a table covered in technicoloured pills. His eyes were tired and sad, as though the daunting task of consuming the medications set before him drained the life from his face. The label read, "Schizophrenia, Psychosis non-organic disorder" Gaara stared hard at the boy, frustrated by how familiar these people seemed but how he couldn't remember a single one of them.

The whispering grew louder, more coherant.

_**-derer, mur- you ki- Monster...**_

A burning feeling of fear clenched in his gut as one dim streak of light slowly f-l-i-c-k-e-r-e-d to life... causing his head to turn a fraction of an inch. The hall had come to an abrupt end, with the last exhibit glowing dully against the darkened reaches of this corridor. Slowly, painfully, fretfully, terrified, he trudged forward to find that this final exhibit was... empty. There was nothing in it, not even a sheet of glass to seperate it from the outside world. Leaning forward, he stared hard at the empty chamber, searching for... something. He didn't know what exactly.

The voices rose to a scream, causing him to jolt forward, the ledge forcing the air from his lungs.

_**Murderer, murderer, you killed them, Monster, Monster! Monster!**_

His eyes widened as a figure, that hadn't been there, slunk back from the far wall. It had been empty. Empty! Where...? It laughed, stooping over the edge of the window and tossing two wet, dripping objects with a flourish. Grinning it stroked his cheek, capturing his chin with the other hand, watching as his eyes flipped wildly from the two glistening, squashy balls on the ground, to the jagged smile of his pursuer. With a cry of discomfort, Gaara thrashed, attempting to pull away. The creature tutted, dragging one sharp nail along his jawline with a hideous skrrriiiitch.

"Now, now, Gaara." it purred, reaching out and giving a sharp yank to his unkempt hair. "Why pull away? Haven't you missed me?" the voice was gentle, but oh-so forboding... condescending, familiar... Another insistent tug brought his gaze up to meet the glowing eyes of...?

"S-shukaku?" his voice died away, choked with fear. He never saw Shukaku unless he was asleep... and that meant...

"Ah, sad, broken little Gaara." Shukaku began, smiling wickedly at his terror. "How very desperately you relied on Loyal Kankuro and Lovely Temari for... **love**?" it spat the word with disdain. "But... like the venomous, worthless little creature you are, you spit in their faces, disreguarded all that they did for you. Didn't you?" With a whimper, Gaara shook his head. _No, no, **no, no**_, _**no, never**_! The boy, no, _demon_ smiled again, scraping a jagged nail along the malevolent form of his scar. _Scraping_,** scraping**, scraping until it **bled,** _bled_, _**bled...**_

"No... I'd never... never..." he groaned, tears clouding his frightened eyes. A deep chuckle met his remarks, chilling him to the core.

"But... you quarreled with them? Didn't you?" Gaara gave no response, fighting himself to remain calm. "You hurt them... you hurt them and then you fled..." Tears leaked out over the corners of his eyes. "And then... you fell asleep. So now... they're..." he looked at Gaara meaningfully, waiting for a response.

"Dead? They're really dead?" A hand was thrust into his chest, sending him toppling backwards as a sick manic laugh split his mind apart. Scrambling to get back up, his hands brused the two moist spheres. Hearts... they were human hearts.

"That," the voice was fading... drowned out by Gaara's screams. "Is the final gift from your lovely siblings..."

* * *

"No! No! I'm sorry!" with a shriek, Gaara sat up, looking wildly around his room. 4:48, his clock read. All was still in the house, not a sound but the uneven breathing of the terrified adolescent all alone in his room. His face, his arms, his fingers were flecked with red, red, red... "Oh, no..." he wrapped his arms around his legs, burying his face into his knees. "No..." he moaned, shivering with fear and realization. He had really killed them, it had really happened... Bile rose in his throat, burning his mouth.

_**Die, die, die now. You're going to die... die...die. Go die... die, die... die... Die. You. Deserve. To. Die**_

Kankuro awoke abruptly from his space on the couch. He thought that maybe he'd heard someone... no, there was definitely someone crying. "Gaara...!" his voice was too quiet to carry, he didn't want to wake Temari, he sprang up, maneuvering the messy living room in their small, worn-down apartment. Boxes, among other things for the entirety of their living room was littered with junk, were hastilly knocked aside as he trekked up the stairs. Falling asleep had been a major mistake on his part. The young man had been sitting out because he knew that if ever an argument occured in this small little house, a certain red head would always come out of his room at some ungodly hour of the night to apologize. Every time, without fail he'd done so and established another ritual. It was cute, endearing even, since neither Kankuro or Temari were inclined to stay mad at him... But if Kankuro or Temari were to fall asleep, Gaara would hide from them in his room and wait until morning... which, really, had never worked since he always broke down in the middle of the night out of the sheer guilt and paranoia he felt for "hurting" his beloved siblings.

There was a cough, almost a retch as Kankuro reached the door. Fear exploded within him and he flung the door open, charging through and flipping on the lights. His little brother stared at him, trembling. The scar on his forehead was oozing a thin streak of blood down his face, similar to his arms and neck, scraped raw from some wretched nightmare. The contents of his stomach were resting in his lap, staining his ragged clothes.

"Ka-kankuro?" he croaked, looking absolutely stunned. The small creature flushed, looking down as he realized how repugnant this whole scene must look to him. Kankuro remained passive, scrutinizing Gaara closely. "K-kankuro... I'm so-sorry..." his fingers turned white as he gripped his sharply protruding kneecaps. "I... I didn't mean to wake you up... I fell asleep and I thought-" Kankuro walked slowly over to Gaara's bed, hardly listening to the flutter of words flying from his brother's mouth. "I'm..." Kankuro reached the bed and knelt beside him, looking him square in the eye.

"Gaara. It's fine. Quit apolgoizing for existing." his voice was firm, decisive, reassuring. Kankuro wrapped his arms tightly around Gaara's narrow shoulders. Eyes wide, the younger boy fell against his brother's chest, feeling his tension, apprehension, terror fade away and he returned the embrace. There was silence for a minute as the two remained twined together, elder brother comforting the younger. The way things should be.

The silence dragged on before Kankuro finally broke them apart, staring at him with concern. "Go change your clothes, okay?" he smiled slightly. "We're going on a little walk. I'll be at the door." Gaara nodded, his face flushing again as he thought of the vomit splashed on his legs. His brother left shortly after, leaving him rocking back and forth for a minute, almost indecisively, before he carefully removed his clothes, changed, and dashed out of his room to find his brother.

* * *

Not too long afterwards, Gaara and Kankuro walked hand in hand down the street in the bitter, smog-filled air. Silence prevailed, settling peacebly over the two as they came upon the old playground where Gaara had played as a child. It was a sad desolate place, long since ruined by the inexorable hunger of time. The metal slides hung in rusted shards, the wood crumbled in on itself, several swings hung by one chain... such an eerie place that few ever dared to come and visit the dying thing. Especially at night.

However, Gaara and Kankuro were far from average, so without fear, they trod quickly over to one of the vandalized benches and sat together, Kankuro on the left, Gaara on the right. The moon hung ostentatiously, a full, white saucer on the horizon holding the duo's attention for a time. Finally, after the silence had long overstayed its welcome, Kankuro nudged Gaara gently with his elbow.

"Hey, Gaara?" the younger boy turned and stared up at Kankuro in strange mixture of anxiety and apology, clutching nervously at his hands. "You know, we weren't really mad at you, earlier." Gaara's head slumped foreward on his thin neck at this, as if the shame of the argument weighed heavily on him still. He scuffed his shoe against the moon-washed ground, listening to the _scfff, scfff _the worn rubber soles kicked up. "As a matter of fact, I was pretty proud of you." he scratched his head embarrassedly. "Being so brave and all."

"Really?" Gaara glanced up through his hair, not choosing to lift his head. His fearful eyes registered a nod, and he straightened up a bit. "I really didn't mean to lose my temper."

"I know." Kankuro leaned back a bit, his face relaxed as he hooked one arm lazily behind Gaara's shoulders and stroked his hair. "Temari did, too." The sensation of Kankuro's touch made Gaara drowzy, his brittle frame leaning rather heavily against the back of the bench. There was a brief period of silence, not a sound but the mournful moans of the wind. "You know, I do understand how you feel." said Kankuro after a while of gazing thoughtfully at the skeletal remains of the playground. "Being an artist," he smirked lightly at the word. "I always wanted to do everything by hand. Everything. Craft the doll, sew the clothes, mix the paints, maybe even make the tools." Gaara listened to him listlessly, turning his misty gaze onto his brother. "But... I can't. It's just not possible. I don't have the ability to grow the wood for the figures, I don't have the means of buying pigments and chemicals for paint, and I sure as all get out can't forge metal into a tool." he smiled gently at Gaara. "But does that make the finished product any less mine? Any less creative or artistic or original?" Gaara shook his head sleepily, fully understanding what his brother meant, but too tired to give a reply.

"No, it doesn't." Kankuro finished for him. "My figures are my own design because I do what _only I_ can. You're just the same, Gaara. You live life your way, be you: Listen to those grinding rock songs, read your horror novels, heck, read the dictionary if you want. Just... let someone help you. 'Kay?" Gaara nodded, turning back to the moon, eyes held fixedly by the luminous orb. "Geez, it's like four in the morning. We need to go home now."

* * *

Six days later, Gaara was once again wandering the halls of his old high school. It hadn't changed much in his absence, it was full of the same useless people and ugly green lockers that filed monotonously down the halls, but... it was a challenge, right? Right, and currently this mission was to find his stupid locker. He'd been searching for fifteen minutes already and he knew he was going to be late to his first class. Great way to start off the day. And another thing? Walking around with people pointing and staring at you because they all remember the incident that took you out of public school in the first place isn't exactly pleasant either. Gaara had forgotten why exactly it was that he hated people so much.

"Hey, psycho!" Oh, yeah. That's why. He looked over his shoulder to see who'd decided to fling the insult at him, finding a rather smug looking boy with his messy brown hair. He gives a huge, cocky grin, making the red triangles painted on his face shift slightly. A slightly taller, silent boy in a high collared trench coat with opaque black sunglasses blocking his eyes stands passively beside him, while a cute little girl with transparent eyes twiddling her fingers rather nervously.

"K-kiba-kun," she stammers, her voice disgustingly sugary and weak. "Leave him alone, it's his first day back..." the boy shrugs, giving a rather mischeivous smirk.

"Come on, Hinata. It's just a joke." Gaara felt a white wall of anger singe the back of his eyes. He'd taken his medicine, but that didn't mean he wasn't capable of feeling indignation at such... childish, needless, infuriatingly stereo-typical taunts. He leaned back on his heels, eyes cool and collected despite the growing heat in his chest.

"Yes, I suppose your brand of comedy makes sense." his voice came cold, deadpan almost. "Mocking the sad little freak who dares to breathe the same air you do is such a noble cause." the boy's smile vanished abruptly leaving Gaara silently staring back at him. The silent boy shifted slightly, burying his hands into his pockets. "I suppose you'll want to make a comment on my malformities next? The scars? The insomnia? Go ahead, it's all just a _joke_, to you right?" Kiba's mouth twitched, obviously Gaara'd struck a nerve. But, the boy made no other comment, so with a sense of satisfaction at his victory, Gaara left, leaving them all watching his gaunt figure disappear into the crowded hallways.

The bell was going to ring in less than five minutes and Gaara still had no clue where to find his **freaking** locker. He was just about to give up when he heard a loud, obnoxious voice screaming in the distance. He looked wildly about for the source of the noise, seeing a mass of orange flying down the hall.

"**_Gaaaaarrrrraaaaaaa_**!" Naruto flung himself at Gaara, sending them both crashing into the nearest row of lockers. Gaara dazedly shook his head, hardly registering Naruto's excited cry of "I didn't know you went to this school! Oh, my gosh Lotus and Enma and Jigoku and Izanami are gonna be thrilled. And oh maybe our lockers are next to each others..." etc etc.

"Naruto... could you get off me... please?" the boy grinned sheepishly, scrambling off of Gaara's crumpled form. He hesitated a minute before brushing himself off and standing back up. He glanced at Naruto, then his schedule. "Ummm, could you help me-"

"Find your locker? Sure!" Naruto snatched the paper from Gaara's hands, eyes roving the nauseatingly yellow sheet in earnest. "Oh. It's right there." he smiled, pointing at the locker Gaara was standing in front of. Gaara smirked slightly. Oh, the irony.

"Oh, look who finally came back." sneered a familiar voice. Gaara felt the cords in his neck tightening as the cold drawl continued. "And, gee. His locker's right next to mine. Guess it's our lucky day, huh, Psycho?" Sasuke's hand slammed into the locker beside him, causing him to turn slightly. The black-haired boy smirked, leaning in an afflicted super model-esque pose against his locker. Gaara ignored him, though, preferring to marvel at the number of the bully's locker: **_666._**

* * *

Sorry this took so long to write. Hope it was worth the wait. Oh, and for those of you who don't know, 666 is said to be the number of Satan, hell etc. Subliminal message much?


	9. Chapter 8: I Hate This

Yay! New chapter! Sorry it took so long! I haven't been able to use the computer so I've had this stewing in my head for far too long. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 8: Colors

The nurse's office was empty when Gaara ambled in for his afternoon medication. Despite the fact that he had not eaten, seeing as his backpack which had his lunch in it had been stolen, he had promised his brother and sister that he would take his medicine, come hell or high water. As a matter of fact, the world outside could be crumbling into chaos as legions of zombies devoured the living in a gory frenzy, and Gaara would still take those pills.

Just as important was the unnerving rustling just behind his eyes. He felt the voices getting stronger with every minute, their usual cacophony muted to that of a crackling radio. The voices faded in and out in a static burst of scattered syllables.

Ga/\/\What/\/think/\/\dareyou/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As the voices fizzled, Gaara's hands began to tremble and he searched for the "off switch" if you will. He rummaged through the lower cabinets first, noticing as he did so that there was a familiar red and black backpack sitting against the white wall. With a slight sigh of relief, he grabbed his backpack and pulled out the brown bag lunch his sister had packed. He picked up an acidic green apple, running his fingers over the smooth peel_. _

_Green is an interesting color_, he thought. It reminded him of envy and decay, green snakes with their dripping fangs and ebony eyes… thoughtfully he took a bite, enjoying the bitter explosion on his tongue. He listened to the sounds of the school. He could hear the chatter of voices outside as they all filed to the muggy cafeteria for lunch. This noise disturbed him as it reminded him of the chaos in his head. He almost couldn't differentiate the two.

The sound of running water caught his attention too. It sounded close by, the bathroom perhaps? Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought…

Just then, the water stopped, and Enma walked out of the bathroom, pulling his sleeves down over fresh bandages. He stopped when he saw Gaara, his harsh green eyes piercing Gaara's like syringes. "Ah… I was looking for you." He said, casting his glance to the floor. When Gaara said nothing he continued, "I found you're backpack in Iruka-sensei's classroom. I thought you'd want it before Sasuke got to it."

Gaara nodded his thanks, taking one more tart bite of his apple. The color closely matched Enma's eyes. Enma shifted his feet and walked in front of Gaara. He sat down quietly and continued to stare.

The voices came to the sound of a hushed conversation:

_What do you think you're staring at? Go shred yourself to pieces you foolish, worthless excuse for a human being Don't stare at us, don'tstarequitstaringquitstaring__**Quitstaringatus!**_

In fear, Gaara tossed the apple back in the bag and bounded over to the cabinets, opening one after another without closing the last. Where is it? Where is it?

"It should be in the last cabinet. That's where they keep personal medications." Offered Enma, quietly.

"Oh." Gaara quickly flipped open the door grabbing the familiar fluorescent orange cylinder and snapping off the cap. He took the bitter pills and knocked them back quickly, feeling the voices grudgingly stitch their mouths shut, murmuring death threats. A shudder slipped through him and he sat down, fishing his apple out of the bag again.

Enma sat quietly, running his fingers over the ugly puckered scars that marred his arms. There were some that were still oozing blood. Gaara's eyes unwillingly raked the scars, so like his own. "Have you ever considered this?" Enma asked, his eyes suddenly bright and alert, the green centers flashing eerily under the lights of the school.

"No…" Gaara said softly. "It would upset my siblings." Enma's mouth tightened a bit.

"Oh." He picked at a newly formed scab, clenching his teeth a bit when the scab gave. Bright red oozed out, it looked somewhat… inviting to Gaara.

Enma noticed, a sly smirk playing around his pierced lips. "Here." He handed Gaara a wicked looking razor. "It's clean. Just in case." Gaara took it, not sure what to say. He slipped it in his backpack, wondering why Enma was doing this.

"Oh… and just so you know," continued Enma. "Lotus… she was mine first. It's her fault that I do this. She'll do it to you, too."

Gaara said nothing.

"Did you hear me?" he asked, trembling slightly. Gaara nodded. "Well, then answer." he commanded, watching as Gaara's posture, face, eyes, everything hardened.

"No. It isn't her fault. She tried her hardest to help you. Or don't you remember?" he tapped his forehead, where the ugly scar still lay, coiling thickly at the top and tapering just under his eye. Enma's mouth fixed in a hard grimace.

"More importantly," continued Gaara. "She doesn't belong to anyone. You may have loved her once. But that's over." Enma jumped up, grabbing Gaara by the front of his shirt.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about love!" He shook him slightly. "Having it tattooed on your ugly face doesn't mean a thing! Do you hear me?" Gaara slowly, gently untangled Enma's hands from his shirt.

"I do. I know what love means. My brother and sister love me and I love them with all my heart. I love Lotus, and I'm fairly certain that she loves me. Either way, I still know what love is, but I'm fully aware of what hatred is. That's what your clinging to."

Enma, trembling and silent, flicked Gaara's scar, as he had so long ago. "I hate you."

* * *

Later that day, Gaara and Lotus walked together down the sidewalk in the direction of his house. There were plans for Temari and Kankuro to go over to Lotus' house with him and have dinner with her dad. He held her hand stroking the soft white skin under his thumb, feeling a weak buzz in his head. The voices obviously did not approve.

Along with that, Gaara's indignation at Enma's statement two or three hours earlier still rattled in his mind. _She's mine. _He thought. It surprised him that he was capable of such a thought, considering his pious response to Enma. He was such a hypocrite... it made him sick. Lotus smiled at him from under her thin almost white hair, pulling her hand out of his.

His hand hung limply for a moment before grabbing it again. She looked at him in surprise. "I…" he couldn't figure out what to say. It embarrassed him that he felt this desperation just to hold her _hand._ His face flushed, and his mouth twitched slightly. She smiled again.

"Don't worry, I was just checking my phone." She put her hand back in his, squeezing it affectionately. Her eyes were a pretty gray blue, he observed. It reminded him of a winter sky, sad and lonely, but beautiful. He pulled her close, kissing her forehead as these alien feelings overtook him.

Just then, two annoying voices appeared behind them.

"Ew, Sakura, I think I smell puke." A Barbie like blond and her strawberry haired friend had come up behind the couple and begun following them.

Gaara moved his arm around Lotus' shoulders, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo and body spray. She smelled like brown sugar and vanilla.

"Well, Ino, what do you expect? Some people just have no self-control. She could try not to take up the whole sidewalk." Gaara felt Lotus tighten her grip on his hand. However, she did not answer.

There was a weak chuckle of laughter in Gaara's head. Shukaku shushed them, wanting to listen… or maybe it was the pills. Gaara couldn't tell. He looked at Lotus and thought that she could stand to gain another ten pounds. She was trying though, that's what mattered. Her pretty eyes looked very somber and wet just then. He brushed away a fresh tear with his rough thumb.

"So… Lotus, how much ipecac does it take to make you puke? Probably a whole case by now, huh?" she laughed. Still, Lotus did not deign to answer. She kept her eyes forward, her pale face was flushing, and her lower lip was crunched between her teeth. Gaara watched her cautiously.

"Wow, Ino, not only is she the ugliest girl in the school, she's deaf too." Lotus gave a little cough. Gaara stopped walking and pressed both palms to the sides of her face. He tried to comfort her, but she shook him off, covering her mouth for a moment, shivering slightly.

"You're beautiful." said Gaara, softly. She shook her head violently, clutching both hands to her stomach and walking to the sidewalk.

She started shaking and dropped to her knees. "I'm going to be sick." She whispered, the food in her stomach felt so heavy. She felt so heavy. She felt her insides lurch and she tried to stop it, but it didn't work.

She retched, her lunch dropping wetly on the grass: a bile colored rain to the side of the road. Tears streamed down her face, and her stomach heaved again.

Gaara stared accusingly at the two girls. "Was it fun?" he asked, his face passive.

The two girls left, in silence, but clearly disturbed by the implications of what they had done.

Gaara turned his attention back to Lotus. "I'm sorry." She whimpered, running her hands over her streaming eyes. "I'm so sorry."

Gaara said nothing, he helped her up, and pressed his lips to hers, tasting the sour evidence of her psychosis. "I hate this." She whispered, leaning her head against his chest.

He did too.

* * *

Later that night, after dinner, which was a great success, Gaara sat in his room, examining the silver razor that Enma had handed him. He ran his finger lightly along the edge feeling the sting of his finger splitting slightly at the tip. A drop of blood crept to the surface and he stuck it in his mouth.

"It tastes like iron." He said to no one in particular.

* * *

Sorry it took so long. I think this chapter is kind of off, but it's been a while. So... it is important. If you think you can tell me why, go ahead and try.

Considering that it's been so long since I heard your lovely input, I would truly appreciate your shiny reviews. :3

Pwease?

Also, I'm in Japan right now. Yeah. Cool, huh?


	10. Chapter 9: Vanishing

_**Hey there, world! It's me again! I got my internet privelages back, so I can finally get back into the swing of writing this beastie. I may need to go back over and revamp the story, so if anyone has suggestions, feel free to send me a PM or a review and I'll give it consideration. Now, I do not own anyone in this story except for Lotus, Enma, Jigoku, and Izanami. Everyone else belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.**_

* * *

Chapter 9: Vanishing

Empty. The cabinet was empty. Flourescent orange bottles littered the ground at Gaara's feet as he stared numbly into the empty cabinet. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.

His medicine was gone. Gone. Vanished. For possibly the ninth day in a row. He kept hoping it would turn up but... Shaking, he dropped to his knees and began to organize the bottles at his feet, setting each one back where he'd found it, dimly aware of the growing chorus blossoming at the base of his skull.

"Hey, Gaara!" He jumped, several bottles rattling to the floor as his hands jerked. He peered over his shoulder and saw Naruto, his crooked smile lighting up his face as he stood casually in the doorway. "You've been in here longer than usual."

_Go ahead and tell the little fool. What can he do? _

Gaara felt sick. They were just as potent as before. He felt his heart hammering against his ribcage. It felt like it was going to mash itself into a bloody pulp, ooze out of the calcium enforced cage and pour from his mouth. Everything was spinning out of control. Oh, God, why, why, why, _why, __why, __**why Wh-**_

"Gaara!" His head snapped up. Naruto's eyes were dark with concern. "What is it?" He swallowed, replacing a few more bottles before standing up and gently closing the off white door. It swished shut with a muffled Thnk. He stared dully at his feet for a moment before he opened his mouth.

"I think... my meds are..." the words caught in his mouth. What could Naruto do? Magically find them?

"Yes?" Naruto's face had grown uncharacteristically grave. Gaara shut his mouth with a snap. His eyes flicked towards the door, just behind his friend.

"I gotta go." he darted past him and into the now crowded hallway. Lunch was over, and although he hadn't heard the bell the first time, it rang in his head for the rest of the day.

* * *

He sat silently in his kitchen after school. He would be alone for a few hours before Temari and Kankuro returned from work. Of course, he wasn't really alone.

His fingers twitched nervously against his face. Each hissed syllable from the space between his auditory nerves was driving him closer to skewering his ears with a butcher knife. He had out his notebook, his dictionary, his colorful pens, the razor...

_What are you going to do? Scribble a few words? We have all the words you'll ever need..._

Gaara's eyes slid down conspicuously and he slowly picked up the red pen. He began to write the words his mind spat:

Cadaver- A dead body, especially of a person. A corpse as for dissection

Sanguine- A fluid, often pertaining to blood.

Icker- An acrid or watery discharge from a wound

Necrosis- A killing, to make dead or mortify

Antipsychotics- A medication used to treat the symptoms of psychosis ie. schizophrenia, Bipolar disorder etc. etc.

Psychosis- A severe cognitive disorder in which a person's personality is scrambled, causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to be strained and impaired.

He picked up the notebook and hurled it at the wall, a feral snarl ripping its way up his throat. He had never been abrasive to the voices before but dammit he had been so close. So close to being normal, to not hurting to not...

"_**Stop mocking me!" **_His voice cracked, and he slammed his fists into the table. He felt the bruise beginning to settle in his pale flesh, he felt his hand reaching for the razor before he could stop himself.

_Go ahead. Blood, give us blood... _

Gaara raked the razor down the top of his arm. The wet, warm sensation startled him, and the burning ache seemed to run its way up his arm and into his rattle synapses where the voices fell silent in an eery and collective sigh. The syntax of his disease... The razor dropped back to the table with a metallic clatter, small streams of blood settling with it onto the milky white counter. _Plip, plip, plip,_

Silently, in a stupor he strode to his room, changing into a shirt with longer sleeves. Couldn't have his siblings seeing that. He sat silently in his room for a moment, his eyes listlessly closing as he heard the door creak open.

He idly ran one hand through the blood pooling up under his shirt. The taste was the same. Bitter and iron. Almost as bitter as the gasp that came from the kitchen. He'd forgotten to clean up after himself.

The lurch in his chest was lethargic, it stabbed him with guilt and apprehension, but only for a second before Shukaku picked up his conscience and swiftly stitched it's trembling lips shut, and setting it down again. It scuttle across his floor like a cockroach.

"Gaara?" came the strained voice of Temari, he heard Kankuro's footsteps coming up to his room. Before he ever made it, Gaara stood up, unsteadily, he made his way down the hall to meet his brother.

"We, uh." his brother didn't look at him. "There's blood on the counter. Are you okay?" Gaara said nothing, but he noted the way his left hand was curled slightly. As if he were very gingerly holding something... He held his injured arm close to his side, feeling the fabric matting itself to his abused arm.

"Gaara." Kankuro's voice was a bit desperate. "Please, are you okay?" He set one hand on Gaara's shoulder, wincing when Gaara's eyes widened and he shivered slightly. He began to count breaths, needing something to keep him from noticing his brother's worried expression.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, eight, eight, nine, nine, nine, nine...

_Does he really care? It's cruel, this charade of love. Alone. Alone. AlOnE forever. Forevermore. Quoth the voices, nevermore._

He couldn't even tell if they were his thoughts or not.

"Answer me, please!" Kankuro's hand slid down Gaara's arm, hitting the cut. Gaara gasped slightly in pain, maybe a bit in relief as the voices once more fell away at the burning sensation. Kankuro's eyes widened as he pulled his hand away, seeing the light dusting of blood on his fingertips. The blood that the black sleeve had hidden.

"The razor..." said Gaara softly. "Give it back, please." Kankuro shook his head, almost imperceptibally sliding his hand into his pocket to hide Gaara's new medicine.

"No, I don't have it, and even if I did-"

"Yes you do." There was a coldness in his voice that startled the room into silence.

"Listen to your big brother. You need-"

"Don't. Tell. Me. What. To. Do." Gaara's teeth had clenched and more venom was sloshing vilely in his mind. He hated them, hated them, hated them for lying to him, for existing, for loving him...

_**Unlovable. You realize that don't you? You burden them with your existence."**_

Gaara shook the hand from his shoulder and started towards the door. Temari stepped resolutely into his way, one pretty hand poised on the doorknob, the other holding his battered notebook. Funny, there was red on it. Had he bled on that too?

"Gaara, stop." Gaara stopped just as he reached her. He needed out, the walls were closing in on him. He could feel them. The voices were watching. He could hear them watching and see them listening...

"I'm going for a walk, nee-chan." he said, softly. His hands were shaking, he could feel the blood dripping down his hand now. Temari's eyes were suspiciously luminous. They looked wet.

"What did you do?" Gaara watched a silvery tear slide down her cheek. He bit his lip, feeling words from his conscience bashing against the stitches... the cockroach voice that slithered around his feet. Unable to speak.

He whimpered, and the whimper turned into a giggle, and the giggle turned into a sob, and before he knew it he was wrapped in an embrace from his sister, feeling her shaking with him. They cried in unison, Gaara's voice babbling apolgies that he didn't even know if he meant...

"Did you take your medicine?" His lips stitched shut again.

* * *

Later that night, after the chaos had subsided, Temari and Kankuro were asleep. He was sure that Kankuro was sitting out on the couch. He had heard his faint breaths, and the few murmured curses as he tried to plot out to himself what the next action should be.

Gaara sat silently, poised to prowl from his room. He listened and began to creep across the scuffed floor, maneuvering skillfully around the boxes. He paused right at the lip of the living room. Kankuro was there, but he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Gaara wasn't sure if it was safe to walk past. The door was just beside him...

He began to slowly creep across the living room, holding his breath and waiting for his brother to stand up and stop him. However, he didn't. He must have been lost in thought. Gaara sprinted the rest of the way behind the couch. He crept into the kitchen, pausing only long enough to slip a pearing knife into his pocket and a note onto the counter.

Silvery moonlight, as silver as the knife, guided him to the door, and he knew as the lock clicked and the door opened to the cool night air, that Kankuro had heard him. However, his brother remained blissfully silent. Gaara walked cautiously over to the couch and realized that his brother had been asleep the whole time. There was an urge to unravel. Fall apart. Tell him what had prompted the relapse, but for every desire there was a voice. Including the silenced cockroach conscince that had rested its grotesque hands on Kankuro's slowly rising and falling chest.

**_You've done enough..._**

"I'm sorry..." and he vanished.

* * *

_**That's that. More to the story soon, I hope. Please review!**_


	11. Chapter 10: Sanitary Waste

**This chapter might change the rating of the story for several reasons: The horror element is going to jump out and hit you in the face. Also, implied sexual content. You'll see. If it offends, be smart and don't read it, okay? Again, I don't own Naruto. Masashi Kishimoto does, but I do own Lotus, Enma, Jigoku, and Izanami. Cool, we go.**

* * *

**Chapter 10: Sanitary Waste**

Gaara clucked his tongue softly, holding out a trembling hand to the cat he saw creeping through the alley with him. It was a silvery white cat with a sleek frame.

_Here kitty, kitty, Here kitty, kitty, **, kitty, kitty, kitty,here kitty kitty,**_

The cat mewled softly. It's padded feet carried it over to Gaara, and it rubbed it's bony little face against his hand, smelling an almost iron scent...

The knife sliced through the cat's neck before it had even realized that Gaara had moved.

* * *

Lotus walked silently home from work, her long hair swishing rhythmically behind her back. She hummed softly to herself, fishing a fry from the greasy bag. Anxiety twisted in her chest for a moment before she resolutely pressed it between her teeth. Salty, greasy, fatty, everything she had denied herself for years and years.

"I wonder how many calories are in this..." she sighed, turning the corner to her house. She shifted the food to her other hand, her thin fingers sliding far too easily into the tight pocket of her jeans to retreive the silver key.

Just as she began to insert it into the lock, she heard a metallic clash from the side of the house. Her heart hammering a little, she quickly finished unlocking the door and raced inside. She set the bag down before she crept out of the still open door and peeked around the corner. She heard whispering...

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you." there was a strange squelching noise. A scrape as if something sharp were dragging on the concrete. The voice was husky and soft... it sounded far too familiar. She walked a bit more confidently into the alley, flipping open her phone to examine the dead end with the meager light.

It would have been better if she hadn't.

She saw her boyfriend, staring blankly at the wall. He was running his hands through something that glistened and slithered across the ground. Occasionally he would let out a little bark of laughter, or maybe, he would knock his head back against the grimy brick of the building, the sounds bubbling into a strange hiccuping weeping.

The source of his contention, Lotus soon learned, was the dismembered corpse of a cat... rather several cats. Each one had been mutilated and disembowled, their eyes plucked out and lined up in front of the long, organized rows of entrails that still oozed from their slashed bellies.

Lotus was morbidly grateful that her own cat was not one of the mangled corpses littering the ground. God, this was sick...

"It never hurt me... why did I kill it?" Gaara began to lean forward and collect another round of organs, this time the heart, from each silent, still, twisted form oozing across the ground.

"Gaara?" He jumped looking at Lotus. His mouth opened in a silent scream, his eyes taking on a haunted and guilty expression.

"Oh.. God." she whispered, noticing the blood running down his arms. "What happened?" He stood up, backing away from her and into the far wall of the sepulcheral enclosing. She took a step forward, slowly lifting one hand to beckon him forward.

"Lotus..." he stood there, rocking from one foot to the other, eyes shifting nervously back and forth. He saw his conscience scuttling between his legs and began to slither forward towards Lotus. "I... killed them." He watched how the malformed little imp settled itself below Lotus, lifting one hand to caress her knee. It's bloodstained fingers began to creep up Lotus' skirt...

"Don't touch her! Stop... Stop... Stop it." His voice deepened and he gave a hatefull look at the creature as it leered back at him. It oozed blood from between the stitches and Gaara could hear Shukaku egging it on. "Lotus, move. Get out of here. Go away." His voice had fallen back to it's gentle waver.

The voice gave a strange noise and began to stand up, running its hands up Lotus' sides and slipping it's filthy fingers through her hair, press it's hideous face into her shoulder. He heard garbled words bouncing off of the stitches. His stomach heaved and he turned away as bile ripped through his throat and a violent retching cough brought him to his knees in the mess of death.

"Come here." whsipered Lotus, stepping over the corpses and gingerly touching Gaara's shoulder. He jumped, and she felt the tacky texture of dried blood scraping her pale palm. "Come inside."

She turned and began to walk, stopping once to look over her shoulder. Gaara was still staring at her... he didn't seem sure what to do. "Come inside." she said again.

He shakily stood up, walking through the gore he had left and turning walking just behind her as she continued on to the room. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw Shukaku, Yashamaru, and a voice he had never had a name for eagerly cramming the "offerings" into their hungry black mouths...

* * *

Lotus closed the door and locked it, walking Gaara to the bathroom and ushering him inside. He stood in the light, the gravity of his condition becoming obvious in the too yellow lights.

"I'm... you're... take a shower, okay?" Lotus stood there awkwardly, not sure what to do. "I'll get some things for the cuts, and I'll find you some clean clothes. My dad won't mind, I'm sure." the last part was more to herself than him.

Gaara nodded, seeming to look through her. His mouth was moving to a silent dialogue. "Gaara." he shuddered but his lips only began to move more quickly. "Gaara, look at me." his eyes flicked to hers and he seemed to relax a bit. "I love you, okay?" she was scared, but still. He was the same Gaara, she told herself, just unbalanced at the moment.

He stared at her blankly before turning his back on her and beginning to undress. She scurried away to avoid a massive invasion of privacy, but as she rounded the corner to her father's room, she knew she heard his voice slicing through the darkness.

"Do you really?"

Gaara sat silently at Lotus' kitchen table while she bandaged his arm. There had only been one deep cut, which meant that the copious amount of blood he had scrubbed off of himself was that of the rotting carion just outside her window.

The pensive silence was broken periodically by Lotus' gentle humming while she worked. Gaara watched the way her hands moved, feeling the gentle sting of the antiseptic as it cleansed the cut on his forearm.

"Lotus?" She had just finished her work and was beginning to stand up. She gave him a smile in response as she rubbed the circulation back into her reddened knees. "Are you... scared?" she shrugged.

"I don't know. Not really." She walked across the slick linoleum floor of her rundown apartment. Lotus and her father kept it in meticulous order, but time had taken it's toll on it. Almost every building in the Sunagakure precint had met this fate, but people went about their days in perpetual and purposeful ignorance of the inexorable fate.

She picked up the bag of food that had gone cold from the table and set it on the microwave plate. "Why not?" asked Gaara, staring at his feet. They were tapping nervously against the floor. He was spelling out something in morse code with the force of the hit.

_soft soft soft stomp stomp stomp soft soft soft_

"I trust you." she was lying. In truth, she was terrified. But not of him, for him. "Would you like this?" she motioned to the buzzing microwave. She wasn't hungry anyway.

"Is that your dinner?" Dammit, why was he so smart?

"Yes... but you know. I can cook for myself." she smiled at him, wondering if he was going to drop it. He tended to get picky about her eating habits.

"If you cook something for yourself, I'll eat it." She cursed under her breath and began to pull out the necessary ingrediants for her own meal. An apple, and... ugh. She didn't want to make anything complicated. She pulled out a package of instant ramen, setting out a pot to boil.

The microwave was blipping with it's hyperactive vigor and Lotus noted how agitated the sound made her guest. She decided to keep the rest of the night quiet, for his sake.

Chewing on a mouthful of apple, she only halfway watched the pot and sat down beside Gaara. Her father's clothes were far to big on him, but they'd have to do while the grimy ones soaked in a cocktail of cleansing soaps. She'd had to change the water at least three times already.

He sighed softly, running one finger through his hair, and pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead.

She set down the apple and leaned forward, taking his hand in hers and pulling him to her chest. His warm breath settled in the hollow of her neck and she felt him wrap his arms around her hips. He looked up at her.

"I'm so sorry." she clucked her tongue, lightly cupping his chin in her hand.

"Daijobu yo." she reassured. She noticed the way he glanced at her lips, and she leaned forward to kiss him. The kiss lasted, and Lotus pushed against him a bit. He was pliable and followed her movements, easily. As their lips parted, he gave an almost inaudible gasp, leaning forward again and capturing her lips.

She sighed into it, ghosting her tongue against his lips and feeling him respond with a jittery curiosity, his body suddenly tensing again. He let her go abruptly, leaning back and pulling his knees up to his chest.

"I think the water is done boiling." Lotus gave him a little smile.

* * *

They lay together on the couch, Lotus leaning back into Gaara, both having eaten and spent a little time catching up.

"Why weren't you at school today?" she murmered, running one hand through his hair. He relaxed further, his body going slack.

"I... haven't been..." he bit his lip. No... no. Stop, stop, stop. No need to ruin this. He would neither provoke the voices nor worry his love. No need. No need...

"Haven't been what?" she asked, nonchalantly. She turned to face him. He shrugged, turning his face away. He saw a little black stain where he had kissed her, but he was certain that was in his own mind. "No, tell me." She turned to face him. He had tightened again, his whole body seeming ready to snap like a bowstring and propel him into the night.

She turned around, allowing her legs to lightly drape across his sides. "Come on," she leaned forward, kissing the scar on his forehead gently. She felt him relax a bit.

"'S not important." his voice came out mumbled. His eyes were slightly unfocused, but they were on Lotus' face. She pressed her lips to his for a moment, running her right hand down the side of his face and settling it against his collar bone.

"What's not?" He was having trouble keeping up his resolve. She ran a kiss down his neck, feeling him go liquid in her embrace.

"My meds disappeared..." she didn't let her concern show.

"Mm." she kept her face pressed to his neck, feeling how his breath hitched in his throat. "Do Kankuro-san and Temari-san know?" He tensed up and began to sit up, lightly attempting to push her away.

"I need to go." she shook her head lightly, allowing her hair to fall off to the side, a white curtain of shampoo scented strands.

"No you don't." She wrapped her arms around his neck, tightening the vice of her legs around his waist. He felt a pressure somewhere in his abdomen. "I want you to stay." His body began to sway back, a faint flush appearing at his cheeks. He wanted to stay. He wanted nothing more.

"Answer my question please." His eyes slid shut and he surrendered.

"I ran away yesterday... they probably know. I had an episode..." his mind was foggy, and his body was reacting to this foreign touch.

"How can I help you?" she asked, her eyes warm and concerned, gazing into his.

"Don't leave me..." he pleaded, "I know it's selfish, but I can't... I let them go because... I don't deserve them. I don't deserve you either, but..."

Lotus silenced him with a kiss, a movement of the hips, and cool fingers climbing underneath his shirt.

Movement, gave way to heat, and heat turned to pain, which turned to ecstacy which morphed into sound. Broken bodies, scarred and malnourished twined together in a messy and uncontrollable dance.

Lotus looked up at Gaara from her place beneath him. Her small frame, naked and relaxed in the afterglow of their first encounter. Gaara felt that he had stained her. Black marred her where his hands had touched her and he knew that the voices had picked the lock and found their way into the house.

"Come back to me..." she cooed, her fingers bringing him back to her as they touched his face. "Let's go to sleep." His shoulders slumped with the effort of keeping himself awake, and the two dressed silently and walked hand in hand to Lotus' room where they both fell asleep intertwined in her bed.

* * *

In the cool morning, Lotus opened her eyes slowly, feeling that something was wrong. Drastically wrong. The warmth beside her had vanished. She peered over, seeing a small piece of paper on the pillow.

_Goodbye. _

* * *

**_Dun dun duuuuun. Just when you think things are under control. Hope you liked it, read and review! Also, tell me if I need to change the rating. Last thing I need is to offend anyone. Thanks._**


	12. Chapter 11: Hearsay

**This chapter will be a bit happier. I felt kinda weird with that last one, never before have I allowed myself to write something so gory. Allow me to lighten the mood. I don't own Naruto. I do own Jigoku, Izanami, Yomi, Lotus, and Enma. Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 11: Hearsay

"Lotus, calm down. I don't... no, you're not making sense." Jigoku sighed, allowing her head to fall back. Her bangs fell out of her face and she twirled one stumpy pigtail around her finger. She flicked her eyes over to Yomi, her girlfriend, who was cooking a pan of eggs at the stove. Yomi glanced over her shoulder, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Jigoku listened for another moment in silence with a relatively neutral expression before she suddenly shoved her chair back and sprang up her eyes wide, so much so that you could see where her scarlet contact ended. "Gone?! What do you mean gone?" She raced through the living room, and out the door. The paper lay crumpled at the door, the word "Dyke" scrawled across the top in a red pen. Cute.

She opened it up, scanning the news until she came upon the missing person's report. "Lotus, please. Calm down. I'll be right over." She tucked the paper under her arm, walking slowly back into her apartment and swatting her sister's face.

"Bitch..." she mumbled, pulling the blankets further over her face.

"Wake up." she hissed, rounding the corner with a determined stiffness in her shoulders. "We'll be right there." Her eyes softened for a minute. "Calm down. Everything is going to be fine." the phone had already hung up, and she found herself commiserating with the dial tone. "Yomi-chan..." she groaned.

"What is it?" The eggs sizzled in the pan, and she dropped cheese in. "Who was on the phone?"

"Lotus." Jigoku checked her face in the mirror, brushing her hair quickly out of her eyes. "Apparently Gaara, I told you about him, right?" There was a grunt of affirmation. "He ran off. From what I gathered he was completely unhinged. His meds disappeared or something." She began the laborious process of lacing her boots, the purple strings forming gaudy X's up her knees.

"It's in the paper and everything." Yomi brought over the breakfast she had made, casting a searching look over the paper.

"Oh, look at that face." she turned away and busied herself with the eggs. "What a shame. I hope he turns up." Jigoku was already getting ready to leave.

"Izanami! Get your lazy ass out of bed!" A swaying hand came up, middle finger extended. "Real mature. I'm going to go talk to _our friend_ about our _other friend _ who is _**missing, **_and when I get back, I expect you ready to go." there was no response and she stalked furiously out of the room. Yomi caught her at the door, planting a chaste kiss on her lips.

"I'll handle her." she said this with a mischievous little smile and Jigoku left almost worried for the wellbeing of her twin. Almost.

* * *

As Lotus' appartement loomed into view, the smell of bleach came barreling into her nose. She had no idea where it ended and where it began. It seemed to be eminating from the corner, between two dumpsters. There was a scuffling sound.

"Lotus?" No response. A silvery white cat prowled into view, its tail twitching anxiously. "Oh, hi Yukiko. Where's your mama?" The cat rubbed itself between her long legs and walked mewling over to the door.

There was such a profound silence inside that Jigoku wasn't even sure if she was home. It was the same conundrum in Alice in Wonderland, where the Footman and Alice discuss etiquette at the door of the Duchess' madhouse.

"The question is," she murmured softly, "If I am to get in at all." she tried the knob, which was blissfully open. "Lotus?" She stood halfway across the threshold, waiting for some response. There wasn't one, so she invited herself in, the cat following close behind.

Grocery bags littered the counter and there was a huge pile of dishes in the sink. Jigoku could only guess at the meaning of that, casting a wary glance towards the hallway bathroom. She shut the door behind her and moved slowly into the kitchen. There was a large bucket filled with soapy water. A harsh medicinal scent wafted from the frothing surface, and there were rags coated thickly with a reddish-brown draped over the side.

There was a sound of rushing water and the door to the hallway bathroom creaked open. Lotus came out, her eyes distant as she wandered back into the kitchen. She didn't even notice Jigoku until she had walked into her.

"Oh... hi." her voice was croaky and she had a blotchy red face at the moment. She was unwrapping a piece of gum, breaking it in half once and then twice, even though Jigoku knew it was sugarfree.

"You weren't purging were you?" No response, she simply trudged back into the kitchen and began to unload groceries back into the suspiciously emptied cabinets. She would have to let this one go.

"So, tell me what happened."

Lotus shivered slightly, wrapping bags into each other and placing them under the sink. The crinkling reminded Jigoku vaguely of white noise on a TV screen. Was she being ignored?

"He came by last night." Lotus reappeared, tossing her hair to one side as she leaned across the counter. A large purple bruise was evident at the base of her neck. "I found him outside." She motioned to the window. "K-" her voice cut off, and she looked like she might be sick.

"K? I don't follow..."

"He was... There were dead cats. And he was... playing with it, almost." Jigoku pressed a hand over her mouth, disguising a gag at the thought with a cough, as though the news were a sip of water that had choked her. "He spent the night." That would explain the bruise. "He had cut himself up, too." Jigoku was beginning to see the legitimacy of this situation.

"Did you...?" Jigoku paused, watching as Lotus brushed the hair back over her neck. There was a knock at the door. Lotus flinched, dashing to the door and staring out the peep hole.

"Oh my God, it's his brother and sister." Lotus whirled around. "What do I do?" she looked terrified.

"Just tell them you saw him."

"They're going to think I encouraged him!"

"I think you should-" there was another knock at the door, more insistent this time.

"Open the door." she heard his brother's voice. Strained, tired, a bit sharp.

"J- just a second!" she grabbed the buckets and dragged them off to the side, hiding them in the pantry. She rearranged her pajamas, and patter her hair in place over the mark on her neck. With a deep breath, she opened the door.

"Hello, Kankuro-san. Temari-san." They both looked a little worse for the wear.

"Hey, we're not sure if you've heard anything, but Gaara's-"

"Missing, yeah. We know." Jigoku chimed from the kitchen, pulling up a news article on her phone. She had no idea what it said. "I came over to tell her." God, she hated being a good liar, but hey. If she got in trouble, no big deal. Lotus wasn't lying. Yet. Temari looked at Lotus sympathetically, associating the dissheveled appearance with crying, instead of binging and purging. Probably for the best.

Kankuro however, seemed skeptical. "Is that so?" He leaned casually against the door frame, his head was almost touching the top. "We kind of figured he'd come here first, if anything. I mean... where else would he go?" his eyes were boring holes into Lotus' face and she could feel herself cracking. She was going to break down and tell them and they were going to hate her and...

"Hey, Kankuro. Ease up. I doubt that she would look so upset were he hiding in her closet somewhere." Temari laid a hand on her brother's arm.

"That's not the point. He might have visited here." He turned back to Lotus.

"If I find out you're lying to me, I swear to God you will never see my brother again." Lotus swallowed thickly, watching him with frightened eyes. He was so intimidating.

"I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth."

Lotus opened her mouth to speak.

* * *

"God Dammit, Yomi! What the Hell was that for?!" shrieked Izanami, cold water dripping from her face and smearing the remnants of her makeup. The taller girl simply laughed and tossed the morning's newspaper at her. She snatched it up, a rather unbecoming grimace marring her doll like face.

"Gaara's missing?! Why didn't anyone tell me? Shit, I gotta go!" she leapt up and began to get ready, combing her hair, brushing her teeth. Hopping around on one foot while she laced up her shoes. All the while, Yomi laughed, packing her things up and getting ready to go home.

She ran out the door, not paying the slightest attention where she was going. She slammed full force into someone who in turn, staggered backwards and caught her.

"Watch where you're going, Nami-chan." Enma looked a bit happier than usual. His face was lighter and his eyes were not nearly as sullen as usual. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that broadcasted the roping scars quite nicely. What a fashion statement.

"I don't have time this morning, Enma." she said, a little breathless. "I have to get over to Lotus' house." Flirting was her specialty, wherein subtlety was her major weakness.

"Oh?" Enma tilted his head in mild interest. "What for?"

Izanami faltered... he wasn't exactly an ally of Gaara's. She pretended to search her purse for something, in reality she was sending a rushed text to her sister to ask her what to do. He reached out and plucked the phone from her hands.

"Nice try." He smiled, a wicked slyness tinting his green eyes. "If it's about Gaara, I already know. Lotus told me this morning. She was a wreck." He crinkled his nose in distaste.

Izanami gave a sigh of relief. Well, that solved that problem. "Wanna walk with me? I need to go meet up with Jigoku under penalty of death. She's at Lotus'." Enma tapped his bottom lip for a minute, flicking the piercings with his tongue.

"Mm, I need to run some errands for my mom, but I can walk you halfway." He offered her his arm, smiling at her. Izanami blushed, her pouted lips turning in a smile.

"What a gentleman." As they walked, Izanami noticed a strange rattling noise coming from inside his backpack.

"You back on your meds?" She asked, curious about the change in his demeanor.

"Something like that."

* * *

Izanami came up to the door just as Temari and Kankuro were leaving. They brushed past her without so much as a backward glance, leaving her a little stung. Jigoku walked out moments later, with Lotus standing nervously in the doorway.

"Don't think badly of me, Ji-chan." she pleaded. "I didn't know what else to say. I have no idea what they're planning." Jigoku shrugged.

"Nah, don't worry about it. We'll fix it." she cast a sour look at Izanami. "Good to see you up."

"Hey, don't give me that. No one told me that Gaara had run off."

"Yes I did."

"No, your psycho girlfriend did." Jigoku smacked her forehead, turning back to Lotus.

"So you want us to search for, what, Gaara? Or the person who took his meds?"

"The person who took his meds." Lotus chewed on a few lank strands of hair, her eyes dark with worry. "If we find Gaara, he probably won't stay. He's convinced he needs to get away from everyone." Izanami frowned.

"So who do you think did it?" She reached in her purse again, meaning to pull out her phone so that she could pull up names of likely candidates.

"I'm not sure. It could have been anyone, but at the same time... I mean. I feel like it must have been Sasuke."

Her hand was coming up empty. Where was it? She'd just had it when...

"Oh, yeah that makes sense. I'd check for his number but I can't find my phone. Enma must have it." she said this more to herself than anyone else.

Jigoku snorted, "What, you're dignity?" Izanami cast her a dark look.

"My phone." The twins began to bicker before something dawned on Jigoku. She looked back at Lotus questioningly, who's mouth had fallen open and face had gone completely blank.

"Enma?" Lotus stared at her strangely.

"Yeah. He walked me halfway here, he was talking about how you and him had already talked..." her voice trailed off.

"I... never said anything to Enma." Said Lotus, her little frame taught as a bowstring. "I haven't talked to him since we left the hospital."

"Oh."

* * *

**That's that for now. Not really feeling it, but I think it'll work for now. Please read and review. Hope you like it!**


	13. Chapter 12: The Razor's Edge

**Alright, new chapter. If you really want a disclaimer, just check out my dA account. Does it look like I draw Naruto? Didn't think so.**

* * *

**Chapter 12: Razor's Edge**

Gaara awoke, bolting upright and staring wildly around him. A cold mist fell lightly into his messy hair, his foggy eyes burning in the frigid air. Where was he? How long had he been... asleep. Asleep. Oh, God, he'd been asleep. He leapt to his feet and took off running through the city. He weaved in and out of the street, his insomnia rimmed eyes wide.

_Run, run, run, what does it change? Can you outrun yourself you filthy little monster?_

He skidded to the side, his feet sliding out from under him on the wet pavement. He hit the ground and realized, surprisingly calm, that he had accidently stabbed himself. He felt the warm blood soaking the front of his shirt and the voices fell into an appreciative silence. He shivered slightly at the visage on his front.

The white stripes were blurring into the black as red began to fill in the space, like a putrid red fungus overtaking a wet lawn.

His eyes flicked upward, straining to see into the window of his apartment. He began to take the stairs, two at a time, his mouth moving in silent prayers to a God he didn't even believe in.

He stopped at the door listening intently. Did he hear anything? He heard... the television. Silently, cat like, the term made him shudder. He peered into the window, seeing his brother hunched over in the living room, fingers digging into his scalp. Somewhere else, Temari was talking. He assumed she was speaking on the phone.

Relief flooded his body and slid slowly down the wall, until he finally settled at the base, his heart returning to its standard pace.

"They're okay..." he whispered. "They're okay." His abdomen throbbed, but he dug his fingers into the hole. He deserved it after all.

* * *

The next day at school, Jigoku marched down the hallway and into Jiraiya-sensei's art class. She stared around, her eyes narrowed. There he was, the little rat. She stormed into the room, the door clattering shut behind her.

Enma looked up at her through his hair, a pleasant smile playing around his pierced lips.

"Good mor-" Jigoku slugged him in the mouth, watching with satisfaction as he toppled out of his chair between his backpack and her own. She had dropped it in anticipation of what she had come in here to do.

He blinked in mild surprise, his blithe mask still in place. This was a far cry from the normal Jigoku, who was generally just a step above that spineless Hinata. "My, if this is about your sister's phone, I have it right here." He reached into his bag and extended his arm as he lifted himself back to his feet, the purple rectangle dangling awkwardly from his hand.

"Haha. You're funny." she slammed the newspaper onto the desk. "What do you know about this?" He looked at the paper, his eyes settled on the red letters at the top.

"What? You're gay? Somebody alert the presses." The cold drawl in his voice was maddening, she was certain that he was going to be missing a few teeth by the end of the day.

"Where are they?" she snarled, one of her stumpy pigtails had come loose and she looked a tad bit unhinged.

"What?" He reached into his bag and pulled out an orange cylinder. "This?" She snatched the bottle, realizing with horror that the bottle was empty.

"Enma, why are you doing this?" she asked, her eyes empty as the bottle in her hands. What were they going to be able to prove with this? For all anybody else knew, Gaara had dumped the pills. He was too smart. He read her thoughts and smiled. Pleasantly, maddeningly. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands.

"Because I can, my dear." the bell rang. "Better get to class. Wouldn't want to be late, would you?"

* * *

Izanami was sitting rather promiscuously on her desk, talking to the boy in front of her and watching him stutter and blush with obvious pleasure. The boy was dressed in head to toe in green and he spoke a lot like their gym teacher with big gestures and wild, passionate statements. Jigoku slammed her sister's phone into her hand and leaned in close.

"What happened?" she murmered, one hand lightly gripping her sister's.

Jigoku shook her head, tears leaking out of one eye and causing her to flush and rush from the room.

The acidic coil of anger flared up, lit, and began to explode. It was moving up her stomach, through her chest, to the base of her esophogus.

She received a detention from Iruka-sensei for the string of explicitives that had buzzed angrilly through the air for the next few moments, not to mention the chair that left a dent in the chalkboard. She vowed to curse in english from now on.

* * *

Gaara stood quietly at the door to the highschool. He wondered how far behind he was in his assignments.

_Oh, yes. Why not insert yourself into that hive of insignificant, disgusting people? Honestly, you little fool. Do you want to be tormented? Perhaps you have a tendency towards masochism..._

Gaara's fingers twitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. Just open the door and go in. He could check the nurse's office one more time for his medicine. Maybe he'd see Lotus. He could apologize and...

_Apologize? Too late for that... She won't ever want to see you again after what you did to her._

He remembered the black splotches that had appeared where he'd touched her, remembered the strained gasps and the violent shivering of her body beneath him...

He opened the door and walked slowly into the nurse's office.

* * *

Enma watched with a bemused smile as Izanami, his favorite little whore, marched determinedly down the hallway. He was half tempted to come out of his safe haven AKA the classroom, just to see what she had in mind. It was clear that he was going to be in for a sound beating should she catch him, however, he was content to watch the two little fools run around in circles. Well, three if you counted Lotus and four if Gaara was even able to comprehend what was happening. He might be off mutilating cats in a dark alley for all he knew.

Izanami rounded the corner and saw, much to her surprise, the hunched figure of Gaara in the nurse's office. He was searching through the medicine cabinet, stopping every now and again to check his surroundings. He didn't seem to catch sight of her. His panic must have been distracting. She decided to send her sister a message.

* * *

Enma's pocket buzzed and he discreetly checked the red phone he had "borrowed" this morning. "Gaaras in the building" His eyes flicking upward for a moment as he checked the teacher's location. He typed a casual reply. "where?" "The nurse's office. Hurry." He smiled lightly to himself, raising his hand and asking if he could show Iruka-sensei something important.

* * *

Gaara could hear people rushing into the nurse's office, and the panic that seized him was enough to send him reeling out the door. He could not be here. That meant police, which meant the hospital, which meant Temari and Kankuro and sterile white rooms and injections and sleep. He couldn't sleep. Oh, God, let him out of here.

He sprinted from the room, losing his balance and sprawling across the floor... right at the councelor's feet. It was the doctor who had sent him to the hospital... Baki? Baki...

"Sabaku-sama?" he asked slowly, not making sudden movements, attempting to keep the unbalanced young man in a rational state of mind. "What are you doing here?'

Gaara could feel blood oozing out of the reopened wound on his body, the red tacky fluid cementing his shirt to the floor. He wondered if he'd be able to move.

"What are you doing here?" He stood slowly, keeping one hand furled against the red stain.

"I'm... just... dropping something off." he lied, his hands shifting to the grungy plastic bag he had carried with him since escaping Lotus' apartment. He had intended to give them back right away, but the clothes she had washed for him had still been wet.

"To who?"

Gaara twitched nervously, his head buzzing. Shukaku leaned casually against the wall, blue tipped fingers tracing a venomous vernacular in the air.

K-i-l-l h-i-m a-n-d r-u-n

"No..." he whispered. "They're for Lotus... I haven't..." he coughed. It was a real cough, from several days spent in the cold rain that had been falling for the past few days. "Been feeling well. I'll have her come by..." he saw the school nurse coming now. A police officer was just behind her. "I have to go..." he darted underneath the snatching arms of the guidance councelor and out into the cold air. He coughed, something rattling around in the back of his throat.

_Coward, Coward, Coward, Should have killed them while you had the chance..._

"**Will you shut up?!" **He shrieked, not watching where he was going. Boom, right into somebody. He stared up in horror at... at...

"Gaara?" Kankuro stared down at him in disbelief. No, this was not happening. The pain on his brother's face was tangible, and he didn't want to be part of this. He didn't want to the the cause of it. He was tired of the dull ache in his chest...

He pulled the knife from his pocket. "Move." he pleaded, realizing to late that the bloodsoaked front of his shirt was undoubtedly visible.

"Gaara, do you know how worried I've been?" he asked, softly. He wasn't even paying attention to the red tinted blade.

"Move..." he hissed, his body shaking with effort.

"Please, come home." he stepped forward, kneeling to Gaara's level and pulling him close.

"Let go, please. I **have to go!" **Anxiety tore through him like a knife, it hurt, oh, God it hurt. His head was pounding, and his throat was constricting. He attempted to push his brother away, all but forgetting the knife in his hand.

Kankuro gave a little grunt of pain and Gaara felt the warm sticky fluid dropping in a small stream onto his hand. Something in him snapped, and he pulled away completely, watching the blankness seep into Kankuro's features. He slashed at him wildly, somewhere between sorrow and rage. Red welts opened on Kankuro's arms, and his teeth were bared in a grimace of pain. His eyes were screwed up tight, fighting against the need to scream.

Just a little longer until the cops came and took Gaara, and they could fix this. Whatever was left to fix.

The voices screamed in delight, ejaculating words of harsh enouragement and wrapping their clawed hands over Gaara's and giving one more brutal stab that hit Kankuro square in the shoulder.

Gaara leapt to his feet, only to be grabbed by a police officer, his face completely devoid of emotion as he began to drag Gaara off to God knows where.

He kicked and screamed. He thrashed and finally he freed one arm and, with a sickening rip, he heard the knife slam into the man's thigh.

The grip loosened and he raced away, not noticing the gaunt boy in the window, brushing a strand of technicolor out of his face to watch his handiwork, or the world crumbling away in the eyes of his bleeding brother.

* * *

Izanami raced over to Jigoku after school. "What were you thinking? Why did you tell them he was here?"

"What are you talking about? I would never have done that?"

Jigoku's face said it all, and they both sank to the floor in despair. Izanami screamed into her hands and ripped at her hair.

"_**Why is this happening?!"**_

* * *

Lotus paced the floor of her apartment. Her father had called right as she was about to go and force all of the stress relieving calories from her mouth. She felt heavy, so heavy...she had kept the panic from the voice as she explained that she was fine. No need to worry. Take your time getting home, everybody is peachy fucking keen.

She happened to glance up and hear the light tapping at her window. She hurriedly ended the conversation and raced over to the window, opening the blinds slowly. Gaara stood there, the plastic bag from earlier in his hands. She opened it quickly, peering at him in the darkness.

"I brought your dad's clothes back." he said simply. There were noticable red stains on the bag. "I... I..." he was silenced as she grabbed him and held him.

"What are you doing?" he snarled, anger grasping him in the strangest of ways. "Do you realize what I've done today?" she nodded, burrowing her face deeper into his shirt, smelling the blood. "I stabbed my own brother!" He jerked violently, attempting to make her let go.

"I feel so bad for you..." she whispered, her voice breaking and he broke and they both collapsed into each other.

"I can't do this anymore." he sobbed. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Shhh," she murmured, pulling him to her and closing the window. They stayed huddled together on the floor, her running bony fingers along his face and through his hair, singing softly to him while he wept.

"Kankuro is okay." said Lotus after a minute. Gaara tensed and relaxed, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "Temari told me."

"I'm sure he hates me." Lotus didn't know what to say to that.

Rage bubbled up under the surface and he pushed Lotus away. He was going to end this, he was done. It was over, and he was going to wipe himself from the face of humanity. He didn't deserve to live. Enough.

Lotus grabbed him watched as he turned his intense gaze on her.

"Let go." he said, his tone dangerous. Not the same Gaara that had just been trembling in her arms. She stood up and pressed herself to him, ignoring the way he twitched in aversion and smashing their lips together. He staggered backwards, fighting with her to keep her away, and to pull her closer all at the same time.

He was not easily distracted tonight. He growled somewhere in his chest and grabbed her shoulders, fully intending to throw her to the ground and leave, find a dark secluded alley, bleed out while the voices sang and danced around him.

She pulled back and stared at him.

"Don't you dare let them win." his back stiffened and he pulled the knife from his pocket. He stared at her, seemingly disassociating with everything around him. "I could kill you right here." He saw how her eyes flicked to it, how her mouth twitched slightly in a moment of fear. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up, just slightly. She had offered her neck to a razor's edge: Her life to the teetering brink of his sanity.

He let it fall to the ground with a clatter and lay his head onto her shoulder. "I'm tired." he sounded so young, his face full of sorrow that he shouldn't have to face. She led him to her room and sat with him while he fell asleep, singing to him.

* * *

A soft knock at the door roused her, and he nestled a little deeper into her arms at her slight movement. Her phone buzzed.

"It's me, Jigoku."

"Come in, the door's open." she slowly disentangled herself from her sleeping charge, kissing him and smoothing his hair before she made her way into the living room.

Enma was sitting quite comfortably on her couch, his legs furled over one arm and his hand cradling the back of his head.

"Evenin', Lotus." he waved the red phone in his hand. "It's been a while."

* * *

**I'm going to end it there, and stop for now. This could go on for a while. Because what I'm showing you is (a) what a smart kleptomaniac Jackass Enma is and (b) that Gaara's mental state has actually deteriorated since he stopped taking his medicine. I'm not sure if that's entirely realistic, but I do think that it's a testament to the fact that we have habits in our coping mechanisms. When something is off, things tend to fall apart and when our routines are ruined we react much worse than we did before we had a reference. So... hope you liked it, read and review if you please.**

**Also, thanks to GG for being such a great critic throughout this story! I am honored to have her on board with me! *Riverlike tears of Rock-lee-ish joy**


	14. Chapter 13: Running in Circles

**Getting close to the end, folks! You know the drill, I Jasmine/MejCat do not own the characters of Naruto. I own Lotus, Enma, Jigoku, Izanami, and Yomi. Hope you like it.**

* * *

Chapter 13: Circles

Lotus could feel the blood rushing just under the surface of her skin, boiling and bristling and giving her whole body a mottled red appearance. She was dressed in shorts and a tanktop, not having expected company.

"What are you doing in my house?" she asked it as flatly as possible, calmly sliding Gaara's discarded knife into the dark hallway she'd just come from with her foot.  
"Well," Enma laughed, sitting up straight and rummaging through his bag. "You invited me in." he gave her a sly smile, expecting her to have a sharp comeback.

His comment was quite pointedly disregarded as she shifted her weight to a different foot and crossed her skinny arms over her chest. Lotus had learned a thing or two while dating Enma, those few years ago. Never dignify a sarcastic remark, unless you wanted a screaming match.  
"And I wanted to show you something I've been working on for the past few weeks." He held up a camera, the side flap extended and inverted to show her his video.

"What makes you think I want to see that?"

"Mm, call it a hunch." he pressed a button and set the camera on the coffee table, motioning for her to pick it up. She stayed stock still, refusing to touch it. This game was getting old, fast and she was not going to keep playing.

She watched in mild surprise as the camera began on a take of Enma holding up Gaara's pill bottle. He shook it, opened it, and dumped all the pills into the dirt, grinding them into a fine orange powder under his heel. Static, and switch.

"Here, kitty, kitty." she froze, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She strained her eyes, still not moving, and examining the video. Gaara was sitting in the alley, his hand outstretched to a puffy black cat that was sniffing it cautiously.

Her stomach turned. "Turn that off." she forced her voice to stay calm. How could he take a video of someone doing that? Of someone suffering and killing and... Enma smirked, leaning back and shrugging.

"You can turn it off, if you don't like it." There was a horrible splat from the camera and Lotus closed her eyes.

"You're sick." she spat, hearing a crack as something was misplaced on the carcass. There was a sob, a whimper, a whispered apology. Enma leaned forward and pressed his elbows into his knees.

"That's not even the best part." his eyes were halflidded and he had the most terrible, knowing smile she had ever seen. His lips parted slightly at the side, his teeth glaring through in a twisting smirk.

"Why weren't you at school today?" her own voice came through the tinny speakers, the rustle of clothes on clothes.

"I haven't been..." she took a step forward. He could not possibly have recorded them... he wouldn't have...

"Haven't been what?" Lotus heard quick breathing and the voices dropped to whispers.

"_Turn it off!"_ She hissed, taking one step forward. He laughed at her, again, and turned up the volume.

"Why? Are you ashamed?" He had a steely glint in his jasper eyes, one that cast no doubt that he was enjoying every moment of this torture. There was a moment of silence before the camera continued to spew the voyeuristic content.

"I... No," Her eyes were slits, and her chest was rising and falling in a manic rhythm. In, out, in, out, in, out... So much for keeping calm. "Turn it off, you sick son of a _**bitch.**_" She took another step forward, glaring at him with the full menace her 101 pound frame could produce. Enma tsked, leaning forward and picking up his camera, but still letting it play.

"Did you tell him that he wasn't your first?"

* * *

Gaara stirred lightly in his sleep, searching for the frail form that had been with him. He sat up groggily, not even sure why his exhausted body had woken itself up. There was a strange sense of vertigo swirling around his head. He felt warm, too warm.  
"Lotus?" his voice came out in a croaky whisper. The fact that he'd been asleep hadn't quite hit him yet.

_You should leave...  
_

He felt himself lurch to the side, as though the voice had struck him. He couldn't place who it was. He didn't really care, it didn't matter. He stood up slowly as the floor rocked underneath him. When his face came into contact with the floor, he allowed himself to stay there a while, enjoying the feel of the cool wood against his feverish cheek.

"_Turn it off." _

_"Why? Are you ashamed?"  
_

Who was that? He couldn't remember. It was too loud to think.  
_Get out, you've got a job to do. go slit your fucking throat, get it over with, the end the end the end the end the end the end is nigh  
_

He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

_Now... __**now... **__**now!**__  
_

Gaara stood up and peeped out the window. There was an escape ladder down to the filthy streets below. Perfect. He tread carefully across the floor, opened the door and listened.

* * *

Enma watched the look on Lotus' face when the video from the scene at school began. He saw how her eyes misted over at the pained look on Kankuro's face and the shock, disgust... then fear as it showed Gaara climbing in through her window.  
"I'm the next DeMill, don't you think?" he said, sarcasm dripping from each word.  
"Why are you doing this? Gaara never did a thing to you!" Enma sighed, shaking his head and beginning to enunciate each word as though Lotus were an idiotic child.  
"He didn't have to. I just wanted to see what happened."

"Wanted to see...?"

"Besides, do you know what antipsychotics can do to a person?" He began to tick off symptoms on his long fingers.  
"Weight gain, Weight loss, insomnia, excessive sleep through the day, not to mention sudden death." Lotus wasn't listening anymore. She had long since shut down.  
"Just get out of my house." Enma stopped talking and stared at her strangely. "I said, _Get out!"_ Her voice rose slightly and she picked up the nearest thing to her, a vase, and hurled it at his head.

It shattered near his face and he darted to the side. She grabbed something else, a paperweight, and chucked it. "_**Get out of my house!**_" He gave a little chuckle, saluted, and darted out the door to avoid another flying object.

* * *

Gaara heard the crash, the noise startling him into lurching out of the half open door. He landed on the ground again, right next to his...

* * *

Lotus took deep breaths as she paced quickly through her living room. Her chest was heaving with rage and her eyes were narrowed to lapis slits. She ran her hands roughly through her hair and turned to stare at the space where Enma had been sitting. She would clean that, she thought to herself. Scrub it, burn it, buy a new one before Father dearest came home. Perfect. And she'd throw that fucking camera...

Camera? Lotus felt her eyes widen, her mouth twitch. She darted forward and snatched it from the table. Camera, he left the camera!

"I have proof..." she laughed breathlessly. "I can prove that he's the one who did this..." she allowed her smile to darken and twist at the corners as she wondered if vengance would be sweet.

* * *

Gaara held the knife nervously in his teeth, tasting the sickening and clotted gore on it's silvery surface. He climbed quickly and meticulously down the ladder and leapt from the fourth rung.

It was over. He could be done. Finished with the horrible spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning, out of control.

Where to, though?

Home. That was it. Home. He would go back to the house of his childhood nightmares. The one where mother had died, Temari cried, Kankuro tried to protect him and his father who...

Gaara winced, the raised lashes on his forehead tingling at the memory. He raced away.

* * *

Lotus realized, after a few moments, that her plan was not a sound one. Enma was going to realize he'd left it. She checked the tape, to make sure it wasn't another false clue. No, he had really screwed himself over this time. Where could she go? Where would she be safe?

Lotus was fully aware that she would not stand a chance against Enma if it came to a physical confrontation, and she would never ask Gaara to...

"Gaara?" she called. Eerie silence answered and she forced herself to stride slowly, quietly, carefully into the room. _He's just sleeping. He's just sleeping..._

She crept to the bed, leaning over and pressing her hands against a large hill in the threadbare comfortor. The mountain flattened under her hand, and her stomach compressed with a chill of fear.

* * *

Enma walked silently down the street, his hands buried in his pockets. That had not been nearly as satisfying as it could have been. He'd taught her too well in the time they had dated. He sighed, agitated at the hitch in his plan. He was going to have to cut tonight... of course he could always watch his tape. He searched around his bag and stopped abruptly. He had left it.

His eyes darkened and he turned swiftly on his heel. He was not losing.

* * *

Lotus raced towards Gaara's house, meticulously avoiding the main streets and the decaying light of the lamps. Her heart was bashing in a quirked rhythm against her chest, and she felt that maybe she was going to vomit blood, stop breathing, and crumble to dust. She was so tired...

Buzzzz. There was a footstep not far behind her a murmured curse, and the buzzing of a cell phone. She stopped, and listened.

Silence. Oh, God. She took another, and there was a quick series of pseudo silent footfalls to match. Her eyes narrowed and she judged the distance to the nearest apartment complex. She feighned a step to the left, flinging an overfull garbage can to the ground, and darted off to the right, hoping that she had remembered how to get to her boyfriends house.

* * *

Yomi looked up from her book. There was a small red head perched on the bench beside her. He was shivering and his face was ashen as though he were very sick. She marked it with a scrap of green ribbon, leaning back and stretching. Rain pattered on the plastic covering over the waiting station beside the bus stop. "Hey."

"H-hey." he whispered back, not looking at her. She peered through his unkempt bangs, seeing a familiar scar marring his otherwise flawless face. It was young, and rounded at the edges, except for the fine point of the chin. His misty eyes were surrounded by insomnia induced smudges and he kicked his feet nervously.

"Some night, huh?" she asked after a minute, hoping he hadn't noticed how she'd just been staring at him. As a matter of fact, she'd often been described as intimidating. He nodded, his eyes flicking to hers for a moment, before returning to a putrid gum stain on the sidewalk.

She slipped her hand into her purse and pulled out a small cookie wrapped in red foil and her phone. The phone dropped soundlessly into her lap, the texting option open. "Would you like one?" He shook his head. "Oh, come on." She waved it under his nose. "It's a friggin' cookie. Everyone likes cookies." He bit his lip, and stared at her strangely.

"Th-thanks." he gave her a sad smile, a tired smile that spoke of relief. She picked up his fragile little hand and wrapped the long fingers around the thick packaging. She winked.

"No prob." her fingers moved deftly,

"Gaara's with me at the bus stop. The one on 13th, what do I do, Ji-chan?"

* * *

Enma's pocket buzzed loudly. "Shit." he breathed, watching Lotus' back stiffen and her neck snap forward. She took a few steps forward, but not when he expected her to. This threw him off enough that his steps continued once hers had stopped. He watched her dart forward and grab the most disgusting, most full garbage can and hurl it across the pavement behind her as she ran.

He blew a strand of technicolor hair from his eyes. And smiled. He wasn't that stupid.

* * *

Lotus pounded on Gaara's door. "Kankuro! Temari! Someone, someone open the door, quick quick quick!" the door opened abruptly and she collapsed into the warm room. Kankuro stared down at her blankly, one eye peering over a thick white pad of gauze.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked, gruff. Lotus scrabbled for a footing, raced through the door and shut it firmly behind her, sliding the lock and jerking on it three or four times before she was satisfied. "I don't remember inviting you in."

"It's really important and I'm sorry that I just blew into your house and Oh my God... Can I sit down, please?" her tiny frame was shivering so violently that he briefly regretted his curtness and led her over to the couch.

He sat down across from her, hunching over the coffee table. Her breathing came in short ragged gasps for a few moments while she collected herself. He peered into her stick like fingers, wondering what the hell she was holding onto.

"What do you need?" he asked, only when he was sure she wasn't going to faint. He crossed his stitched up arms over his chest, watching her take a deep breath and noting the telltale quiver of her lower lip. She opened her mouth to speak, but a croak came out, and a tear slid down her gaunt cheek.

"Is it about Gaara?"

* * *

Yomi watched Gaara eat the soft cookie in tentative bites, He would pause, look around, squint, and maybe his lips would move in a quick answer. Then he'd look back down and take another bite.

_Come on, Jigoku..._ why wasn't she answering?

Gaara suddenly went ramrod straight. She jumped slightly at the movement and watched the way he stared at the building in front of them.

"That's it..." he stood up and darted across the street. The crumbling building looked apt to swallow him up. As he reached the door, he seemed to remember her.

He turned and waved at her, giving her a half smile. "Thanks." his voice barely made it to her.

"You're welcome..." she smiled until he was gone, and then she ran.

* * *

Kankuro, much to Lotus' surprise, neither screamed, nor threatened her, nor anything she had expected him to do during her explanation of the events that had transpired. He merely sat back and traced the stitches on his arm while she talked.

"And... I know who took the meds."

At this, Kankuro's face tightened. "Lotus, they didn't just disappear. He stopped taking them, simple as that. This isn't the first time it's happened."

"No, you don't-"

"No, _You _don't understand." he snapped, leaning forward and fixing her with a glower of disapproval. "You've known him for less than a year, and you think you know him?" Lotus opened her mouth, but Kankuro slammed his fist onto the table. "I'm his brother, dammit!" his voice had risen somewhere in that sentence to a low roar. "I know how he works, and I know how to _**fix this!**_" He fixed his jaw, his neck muscles tensed and his teeth grinding obviously under the curve of his cheek.

Lotus said nothing, recalling in her minds eye the day she had accused Gaara of much the same thing. "Kankuro-san," she asked softly, her face composed. "Gaara loves you. He would never do anything to hurt you intentionally."

"_**I know that!**_" Kankuro was completely out of his control now. "_**My sister and I fucking raised him, Lotus!**_" Kankuro took a breath, grinding the heel of his hand into his forehead. "_**I know my brother.**_" Lotus smiled, sadly.

"This hurts, doesn't it?" He gave her the most withering look.

"You know he'd never hurt you on purpose." She switched on the video, and turned to leave.

* * *

Lotus stepped back into her dark house, feeling Enma's presence before she saw it. "Lotus, where is my camera?" he was perched on the arm of her couch, nonchalantly leaning forward, one hand cupping his chin.

Lotus didn't say anything, she turned her back on him and switched on the lights. "I believe I asked you a question." there was an eerie click and Lotus turned to see him sitting there, a switchblade knife glinting in his hand. He smiled slightly, his thumb relishing the stinging edge of his knife. "You have to the count of three. If the camera is not in my hand at that time, you will pay for your sins with a pound of flesh."

"One," Lotus stepped back, not sure what to do.

"Two," She closed her eyes and began to cover her face. There was a loud bang as the door knocked open behind her.

"It's right here." Lotus turned and watched as Kankruo walked slowly into the room. "Want it?"

Enma had frozen, his eyes wide. He knew he was outmatched. Silence became him best in this moment.

"Come get it." Kankuro tilted his head, as if listening to Enma. "What's the matter? Why won't you come and take it?" He gave him a dark look, one he had perfected on his father. "Why don't I bring it to you? Lotus, go call my sister, please." Kankuro pressed the camera into her hands as well.

"Now, let's get aquainted."

* * *

Gaara sat in his old room, the musty smell of decay hitting him rather violently. He fingered the edge of his knife, watching his voices crowd around him, sunken eyes wide, gaunt faces stretched into grotesque maskes of anticipation.

He pressed the blade to his pale and dirty flesh, and drew it in a perfect circle around the circumference of his arm. Blood pooled up, and blood dripped down, and he sat back, his eyes heavy.

"I'm so tired..."

* * *

_**That's it for now. Please read and review!**_


	15. Chapter 14: Breaking Things Into Pieces

Second to last chapter. I own nothing but Lotus, Enma, Jigoku, Yomi, and Izanami. I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

Chapter 14: Breaking Things Into Pieces

* * *

The phone rang and rang and rang, but Temari didn't seem to hear it. She had not left her room since yesterday. Her glossy eyes took in nothing, they opened and shut, while she sat stiff and still as a corpse.

Where was Gaara? Where was her little brother? Why was this happening? What had she done wrong?

Something stung inside her chest, the feeling swelling into an anxious ache. She needed to move or she was going to have her second panic attack this week and she was tired of feeling so weak and useless.

Temari pulled her tired body upwards, feeling the nervous off kilter rhythm of her breathing scraping her throat. Oxygen felt painful and tasted bitterly of iron. The phone rang again, and she trudged off to answer it.

The noise seemed to agitate her further. Each shrill of the ring drove through her skull like an ice pick and she found herself glaring at the small thing perched harmlessly on the counter. Enough. She ripped the cord from the wall and knocked the phone to the floor.

It clattered across the tiles, denting and cracking as it slammed into the baseboard of the wall. The plaster chipped in a small white cloud drifting noxiously and peacefully towards the ceiling.

Pressing a palm into her aching, stinging eye she turned to leave her apartment. She needed some air.

* * *

The chilling air bit into her arms and legs as she walked deeper into the crumbling ruins of the city. She didn't know what had caused it to deteriorate. Something from deep inside had begun to rot, to fester and crumble until all that remained was a dying tangle of twisted minds who waited for the end in silent resignation.

She had begun to feel that her small family was like that as well.

She had realized it early on when their mother had died. She had watched her Daddy become an animal and that had broken her more than anything else except maybe the chaotic spiral her brother had entered in the last few years.

The few weeks of improvement had brightened her outlook on life. For a beautiful few days, the city had seemed cleaner and less decrepit. People had seemed kinder and the smog had seemed a little less toxic, sweet even.

Before long, she realized that she had no real idea where she was. She had managed to wander much deeper into the city than she usually would allow herself, especially after dark. It wasn't as if she couldn't protect herself... She just considered it unwise to tempt fate.

As she scanned the dirty streets to determine her current location, she realized that she had wandered into her old neighborhood. This was where the nightmare began.

She saw the House of Horrors where she had been raised, and razed into the dirt by a man so much larger and older than her, where she had protected two innocent children and learned just how cruel life really is. Despite the memories of blood and bruises, of broken bones and screams, she felt pulled to the building as if it held some treasure or relic that could restore everything crumbling around her.

In a few strides, she cleared the street and stood just outside the door. The dim, unpleasant light made a dingy halo around her chaotic and tangled hair. When Temari opened the door, a cloud of moths departed silently, swirling past her with soft, powdery wings. She watched them for a precious few seconds until finally, she entered the building.

* * *

Gaara couldn't tell how much blood he had lost, but he knew that the voices had gone very, very quiet, very still. They sat and stared at him with hollow, expectant eyes.

All of them seemed to be dissipating. Their substance had grown almost effervescent and it misted at the edges like a dying fog.

"You know," he began, licking his dry lips as he watched the dying trickle of blood come oozing out of his wrists. "When I'm dead, you'll be dead too." Somehow, that idea made him sad. He would be killing something that had no choice but to be a part of him.

Maybe they viewed him as he viewed them, and he was a strange and undeniable part of a never-ending chain of hallucinations, each more miserable than the last. Nonetheless, the deed needed to be done.

He was tired of being here in a world that was far too cruel for him. It was far too much for someone who was not enough. He thought of Kankuro, and he jerked against the pain that welled up in his chest. To stifle it, he gave himself another very deep slash to his wrist. This was taking too long. Maybe if he slit his throat?

He moved the knife up to his neck, fully intending to sever his windpipe and choke on the bloody knife, bleed out every crushed hope, every secret, filthy wish that had ever plagued him in this dark and unwanted existence.

He looked at the doorway, and was surprised, rather horrified to see his sister standing in the doorway, her cheeks red from the cold streets and her eyes wide at the spectacle in front of her.

"Gaara?" she stepped forward, almost imperceptibly. Almost. He needed to finish this now, or it wouldn't happen and he would be forced to endure the rest of eternity with these ghastly, speaking shadows that would follow him forever, to torment him and tempt him and make sure that everything went wrong.

"Stay there." he said, trying to force a coldness into his voice that wasn't there. "Nothing you say or do changes anything." His hands were shaking. He had cut a muscle, and it had become very difficult to control his hands.

Temari put up one hand very slowly. Gaara watched her chest rise and fall, rise and fall as she fought the urge to race over to him in fear that he would really slash his throat.

"Gaara," her voice shaking, just slightly as she reached for him. Warmth seemed to emanate from her fingers, the chipped black polish cutting off the tips as she tried to reason with him.

She took another step, and the voices sprung to life. Shukaku swaggered off behind her, leering at Gaara from behind her and setting its sharp long chin into her shoulder. "Please, put the knife down." His conscience found its way to his side, one sticky, black hand wrapping wretched, filthy fingers around his and playing with the handle of the knife. The other pointed ramrod straight towards his sister, hand clawed and twitching.

"I don't want to lose you…" She tried to smile at him, but it fell halfway through and a tear fell heavily from her pretty eyes, clinging obstinately to her dark lashes. "We can't lose you…" Blue tipped fingers covered her mouth and some other voice behind Gaara began to dig its long sharp fingers into his ears. The words became garbled and distant like white noise.

Anxiety rocked his body in an icy shudder. This wasn't supposed to happen. His death was meant to be quick, painful or not, and alone. He could still end it… he could still be done, but… but, Temari? Temari would have to carry this image forever and this instant would never leave her.

_**Make your choice make the choice is it over or not? Are you too weak to punish us? Are you too weak to set your flesh and blood free? If you love them let them go on without you…**_

"I can't do this anymore." He whispered, but his own words felt thick and he couldn't hear past the holes or the rising screams behind his eyes. Everything hurt.

"Please, please, put the knife down. Please, please…" her legs were shaking and much to Gaara's horror she was crying now. Sobs wracked her shoulders, but she obediently stayed put.

_3, 2, 1, cut off your breathing_

The knife began to push through his thin neck and he closed his eyes, forcing his hand down. The sound that hit his ears was revolting at best. The ripping sound and the unnatural sensation of some foreign object touching the inside of his throat caught him by surprise, slowed him down.

He was picking up his resolve to continue when he felt strong hands on his shoulder, pulling him forward. The knife began to leave his neck, pull out of the soft niche of skin he had dug it into.

"No." Temari pressed her hand to the gaping hole. "I c-can't let you." Her breathing was so ragged, he was worried that something was wrong with her. She hurled the knife against the wall and it fell with an uneven, almost mocking clatter against the dirty floor.

"Please, just let me go."

She did not answer, she simply pulled him into her lap and stood carefully. He was so light, it was like holding a moth. His breathing was beginning to jerk, and his eyelids fluttered closed. Clasping her hands together, she pressed her lips to his cheek, and closed her eyes for a moment.

"Please."

* * *

"Is that it?" asked Enma, glaring up at Kankuro from his place on the floor. His green eyes were filled with anger and maybe even a secret pleasure. He spat a mouthful of blood on the floor, and laughed. "Pathetic."

Kankuro aimed a swift kick at his ribs. "You'd better shut up." He had only just managed to get himself back under control. But his grip was frail.

"Oh, come on. Surely you want to keep going? Or do you agree with me? About that psycho brother of yours?" Kankuro turned and leaned forward, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Shut the fuck up, you little- Ugh. God." He ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking towards the kitchen where Lotus was still dialing the phone number he had given her. Her hands were shaking and she stared blankly at the wall as she was once again met with the uncaring dial tone.

He was surprised when he turned and saw Enma standing up. The boy leaned precariously forward, clutching his ribs as if he were about to fall apart. "What are you doing?" Enma lurched forward slightly, but he didn't answer.

Kankuro grabbed him and tossed him back into the floor. "Do you think I'm going to let you walk out of here?" Enma shrugged.

"I suppose, unless of course you break my legs. Then I'd have to crawl" He laughed, an ugly little laugh.

"God, what's wrong with you?" Kankuro grimaced with distaste. This kid was a basket case.

"I like to break things into pieces." He flicked open his knife again, scratching lightly along his arm and reopening a few scars.

He smiled.

* * *

Gaara woke up in the hospital, the one place he didn't want to be. He couldn't move very well and he had that horrible feeling that followed sleep.

That feeling of having lost something or broken something. The dizzying chant of "Who am I? Where am I? Who am I? Where am I?"

Who, where, who, where, who, where, who, where, who

The only real thing he was sure of was that it was unusually quiet in his head. He hadn't had this peace of mind since his days in the Jinchuuriki psych ward.

With an irritating amount of difficulty, he turned his head and examined the chairs against the wall. He saw Temari, fast asleep with her head resting lightly against the white wall. There were dark stains on her clothes and he could see flakes of dried blood still stuck to the spaces between her fingers and on her arms.

With a grimace of pain, he sat up, feeling stitches pulling tight in his abdomen and shoulders. His wrists were sore, too, but he needed to get up. He didn't really want to leave or run away. He just wanted to get up and move. He needed to think.

Once he had maneuvered himself into a sitting position, he began to work the IV needle out of his hand, careful not to cause an issue. There was a vase of wilting flowers and he carefully placed the limp cord into it, wondering if the medicine they were filling him with would help perk up the dying foxgloves.

He carefully stood up and tiptoed over to Temari, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek and brushing her bangs out of her eyes. She turned her head a little and sighed which created a strange ache in his chest. He continued out the door.

Once in the hallway, he began to wander, thinking about everything that had happened over the last few days. He wondered if Kankuro were upset with him, who had taken his medicine in the first place, why this had happened, whether either of his siblings could ever forgive him. He wondered if he could actually survive in this world. If he could cope now. If maybe, the silence settled into the synapses of his brain would meld into the cracks and fissures and stay there.

Before he knew it he had found his way down into the lobby. He hadn't meant to come this way, but… it was empty. The doors were both closed, reflecting the black night and the temptation of freedom.

Should he take advantage of this and leave? He could finish the job. Be done.

Just as he thought he might, the desire to live bloomed just under the surface of his skin, filling him with warmth. He thought of his sleeping sister, so beautiful in spite of every late night and sickeningly early morning she inflicted upon herself and Kankuro sitting in his workshop with wood shavings all over his paint smudged fingers. He thought of Lotus singing to him on their walks home from school and the over the top hammy flirtation that Izanami inflicted on everybody who walked by her and the look of horror on Jigoku's face. He thought of that kindly teenage girl who had sat with him at the bus stop.

Just as he had made up his mind that he was going to return to his room and maybe fall asleep, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He jerked quickly around and saw his brother looking at him intently. Gaara couldn't say anything. His tongue felt heavy and dry and a lump had quite stubbornly planted itself in his throat.

Kankuro pulled him close, enveloping him in a hug. Gaara tangled his fingers in the back of his brother's shirt and felt the tears beginning to leak from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm so sorry."

"'S okay." His brother whispered it into his hair. "You're safe."

It felt as if everything that had been broken was fixed. Everything was right again. Kankuro took his little brother back to bed, cracking jokes and making plans the whole way. When Gaara finally crawled back in bed and fell asleep, he felt safe and warm from the inside out.

* * *

Alrighty. That's that. Please Read and Review hope you enjoyed it! It took forever, didn't it?


	16. Epilogue: Letting Go

Final chapter of this story. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sticking around this long! I do not own Naruto. Just the characters who you don't see in the anime.

Epilogue: Letting Go

* * *

It was weeks later, after his recovery and reenrollment to school that he took a long walk with Lotus down to the Bridge connecting the Sunagakure precinct to the Konohagakure precinct. He had in his hands a page from his dictionary and the doll of Shukaku that his brother had finally finished. Lotus carried her last bottle of ipecac.

When the two reached their destination, they leaned over the bridge and held the symbols of their psychosis over the water.

"On the count of three." He said, smiling slightly.

"One." Lotus slowly uncorked the little brown bottle , sloshing the viscous yellow fluid inside.

"Two." Gaara read over the letter briefly, closing his eyes and letting it's meaning wash over him.

"Three." With a splash, the items fell and drifted away in the swollen gray river.

Gaara slipped his arms around Lotus' waist. "Goodbye." She called, waving her fingers playfully at the retreating relics.

He smiled, imagining the definition that no longer identified him. Thinking of the words swelling into thick, fat lines of dissolving ink and melting away with the onion skin paper, he recited it.

_A severe cognitive disorder in which a person's personality is scrambled, causing any and all contact with reality and its inhabitants to be strained and impaired._

**_The End_**


End file.
